To London With Love
by Nix707
Summary: Harm and Mac part ways only to meet each other a year later through a twist of fate. But will fate be able to keep the two together, or tear them eternally apart?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Reposted due to ff net deleting it. Yeah, I'm rebellious. Anyways, I'll repost the chapters every few days or so. Review if you want. You've probably already read this before, but hey . . . reviews are cool.**

**Note: Most of the chapter is the actual script from 'Fair Winds & Follow Seas' but the end isn't, I changed it up a bit. Oh yeah, and the beginning of the story's kind of serious, but I swear the rest is humor. I know I'm telling you all this and you probably already know it, but it gives me something to do. **

**Introduction**

**0842**

**Harm's Apartment**

**Harm's POV**

"Mac," I whispered her name, my eyes not daring to meet hers as I shuffled clothes into my suitcase, practically willing them to fold themselves. I could feel Mac's eyes on me as she leaned against the counter, bending slightly to the left – closer to me. I move away to get my other suitcase, feeling hot against the intensity of it all.

"Yes," she whispers, trying to keep her voice light but the emotion seeps through anyway. I turn towards her and our eyes make contact for a brief moment before I pull away, overwhelmed.

I breathe in. Should I ask her? I'm fighting a losing battle and I know it. There's no turning back now. "Of all the men in your life," I begin, turning my vision once more to her, "what was it that attracted you?"

The first expression on her face is one of mild confusion but it's almost immediately replaced by one of deep thought. She leans herself against the kitchen counter again, her eyes staring out into space for a minute before returning to me.

"Well," she sighed heavily, "they wanted me . . ." her eyes connect with mine, creating a bridge never to broken, "and they let me know it."

I stare at her, feeling the impact of her words crash onto both my body and mind. Her last comment hurt me, but not as much as the fact that she didn't know I wanted her – that she didn't think I wanted her. Her words sting me, penetrating my heart. I want so badly to travel back in time, to do everything over again.

I walk towards her – our eyes never break the bridge we've formed. "I wanted you," I whispered, our bodies edging nearer to each other. "You knew that."

I lean against the counter next to her. She looks over at me and sighs heavily, her eyes dancing with emotion. "Harm, no woman wants to be a mind-reader."

My mind instantly protests to that statement. I let her know, I told her . . . you know, mentally, telepathically, physically, _basically. _

"And with you there's always complications," Mac continues, her mere eyes breaking my heart. She bites her lower lip, "Another woman . . ."

_I'm over them! _I scream to her mentally. _I don't care about Annie, or Jordan, or Renee anymore . . . I don't know if I ever really did. _

She stares at me, something shadowing her chocolate brown eyes that I've never seen before. It clouds her vision. "Work . . ."

_I'm willing to put our professional relationship at risk, _my mind immediately spurts. _As long as it means moving ahead with you._

She turns away, her vision falling to the floor. "Searching for your father . . ."

Words find my mouth this time. "That's all in the past," I argue. I can't help it – I feel the one thing, the one person that I've ever truly wanted is slipping away from me before my very eyes, and I'm powerless to stop it.

Her brown eyes meet my blue ones and she reflects a small inquisitive smile while her eyes read me like an open book. "Is it?"

It's my turn to stare at the ground. She always knows. I mouth wordlessly for a few seconds before braving the power of her eyes. "Mac . . ." the desperation of the moment seeps into my voice. "We have twelve hours . . ."

She turns to me, her eyes are sympathetic, a watery smile over takes her lips. "Harm . . ." she trails, the profound reality of this moment seizing both of us almost instantly. "We've had _nine _years."

I try to meet her eyes but find it so confusingly difficult. _This is Mac, _my mind tells me – my little voice of reason seemingly mute. _You can at least look at her. _I fight my way up to meet her eyes. I wish I had an excuse. I wish had some reason to tell her to come with me. I wish I had a beautiful plan where everything worked out. I wish she knew . . .

"I guess I just needed a deadline," I whispered, cinching close to her. Our eye contact is overpowering our words.

Mac smiles at this and I'm thoroughly invigorated from the warmth she radiates. "Well, you've got one, sailor."

The friction is suffocating. I move a little closer, she leans a little forward. The space between us is nonexistent. I see her and I'm instantly blind to everything else. I draw forward, she moves in ever so slightly. Our eyes never break. I can hear her thoughts magnified in my head. _What are we doing . . . ? _

We both watch almost incredulously as we pull forward towards each other, empowered by something even stronger than our magnetism. Our lips hover an inch away from each others. My eyes search hers for any sign of regret – I'm met by a wild thirst that could only be compared to my own.

I plunge.

Our lips meet in one wild frenzied moment. Her hands come up to my face and pull me closer, both my arms loop around her back and almost delicately draw her body to mine. Our lips never release from each other's. My hand trails up and down her back. One of her hands coils around my neck. We are totally and completely lost in each other.

She draws back for one split second before reuniting our lips. We didn't pause to breathe – just the mere sight of each other's bodies took our breath away. Every time we released ourselves from our rather engaging liplock, our eyes connected, forcing our bodies together once more.

"What?" she pants between kisses, "are you proposing?" she draws back slightly, both her hands resting on my chest while my arms encircle her waist and back. "And that's not a Freudian slip."

I release her body from my tight embrace – her hands work their way up to my neck again. "I'm proposing," I whisper, my eyes sinking into hers. Her breath is heavy, mine's just plain ragged. "Let's get married."

My eyes search her for a reaction but she says not one word. Her lips dive to meet mine as our tongues commence dueling once more. I kiss the top half of her lip as she sucks on my lower one. We put the kiss we had on the Admiral's porch to shame. The tenderness that was in that one has simply evaporated – leaving nothing but pure raw and unsatisfied passion.

She attempts to pull away from me but I keep pressing forward. Our lips just simply won't stop. Slowly, her hands release themselves from my neck and she draws away, her forehead coming to rest on mine. "In London?"

The question hangs in the air, both our minds soaking up its essence. Our hands connect together, our fingers intertwining. "Well," I smile, tilting my head upwards to meet hers. "That works for me . . ."

My lips go in for the dive but Mac tilts her mouth away, her eyes darting to connect with mine. "Well, San Diego works for me . . ."

We both pause, the silence that now falls between us eating away at our hearts. I stare at her and she stares at me. Her hands lightly run themselves up and down my arms. Her expression is dead serious. I sigh and she quickly follows. Her head tilts down in defeat as she leans her forehead against mine, a small sad smile overtaking her lips. "I don't want you to leave the Navy, Harm."

I'm touched by her words and instantly saddened by them too. One of my hands takes the liberty of running themselves up and down Mac's back. Our eyes never break the bridge they've formed. "And I don't want you to leave the Marine Corps, Mac."

A little water seems to form in Mac's eyes but she keeps the tears at bay. "Harm," she whispers, emotion creeping into her voice. I lean in a little closer, watching the words she will never say reflect in her eyes. "I've never felt anything like what I feel about you."

Her voice rings of truth and I can immediately detect the sincerity in it. I know what's coming next. I stand there powerless to stop it. My mind's racing. I see the unshed tears in Mac's eyes, the unspoken words that die on her lips. And I know what's coming next. And I know there's no way to defeat it.

"I just think, Harm, that if fate wanted us to be together, they would stop throwing so many rocks in our paths," Mac whispered, her hands moving up towards my chest, her voice breaking slightly. "And maybe they'd give us a sign."

I stare at her, one of my hands entangling in her hair, my thumb trailing over her skin. "You don't call us being sent thousands of miles away from each other a sign?" I whispered, a tiny note of hilarity ringing in my voice.

Mac stares me down. "Wonderful sign, sailor. Sending us to two different continents – what do you think that's supposed to mean?"

I raise my head to meet her eyes. "Hey," I whispered, the shadow of a flyboy grin appearing on my face, "you wouldn't be here if it weren't for the fact that in twelve hours we'll be on entirely different continents."

Mac sighs heavily and leans her head to my chest. Almost naturally my arms circle around her. Mac shakes ever so slightly and I tighten my grip on her, as if were I to blink she would suddenly vanish. "Harm, you love being in the Navy." Her voice is on the verge of a whisper. "And I love being a Marine. If we . . . you know," her eyes connect with mine. "One of us is going to have to give up our careers."

She's trying to soften the blow but all she's doing is building up my dread. I try to retaliate. I try to come up with some beautiful logical mend-all-problems reason why we should be together but my mouth just doesn't seem to be working with my brain. Mac's eyes move up to connect with mine. "This isn't going to work, Harm."

My whole self protests. "But, Mac . . ."

Her eyes cut me off. They're beautiful, and brown, and the sadness that overtakes them is just unbearable. "Harm, what can we accomplish in twelve hours that he haven't in nine years?"

Her words cut me like class. I turn away – tears sting my eyes but I don't let them fall. "I don't know," I whisper hoarsely, my eyes intent on staring at the ground. "But we've had nine years, Mac." My eyes lift to meet hers. "Don't you think we owe it to ourselves to find out?"

My question's so pitiful, so delicate; it hangs there in the air. I watch Mac's face, the tears that hide in her eyes on the verge of breaking, and the sad smile of longing on her face being restrained by her great marine willpower. "Harm," she whispered, her forehead tilting on mine. "Didn't you ever wonder why we never made it together?" she sighed. "There's a reason."

Leaning over gently, she engaged my lips once more in one long sensual kiss that left me both breathless and senseless. She reflected a small sad smile at me. "Call me when you get to London," she whispered.

"I won't have your number," I whispered back. We stay there for a moment, both or lips ringing from the taste of each other.

Mac rubs her hand on my shoulder. "Email me then."

I nod.

Slowly she stands up and makes her way to the door, leaving a powerful path of broken dreams and unsatisfied longings in her wake. She's just about halfway through the door when . . .

"Mac?"

She turns around.

"Do you believe in fate?" I whispered, my eyes on her the entire time.

Her features reflect contemplation. "I guess so."

"Well then don't you think that if we weren't meant to be together, this last fifteen minutes wouldn't have happened?" I ask, my voice is pleading. My eyes engage hers in what might be our last actual eye contact for months . . . years . . .

Mac smiles at me sadly. "Harm, if we were meant to be together, we both wouldn't be about to leave for two different countries." She sighs. "If fate meant for us to be together, our roads would collide – not separate."

"Our roads _have _collided, Mac," I stress, the significance of this moment weighing heavily on my shoulders. "They've collided more times than I can count."

She turned back to me and this time I can actually see a tear rolling down her cheek. "Then that's maybe fate's way of telling us that we haven't a prayer."

"Or maybe that's fate's way of saying that no matter how many times it pulls us apart, we're strong enough to keep coming back together." My words hit strongly and powerfully.

"But, Harm," she whispered, her voice taking on a compelling tone, "that means we'd have to come back together then." Her eyes are bright and watery but she keeps herself composed. "There won't be a next time."

Leaning forward, she kissed my lips lightly before walking out the door. I stood there rooted on the spot, long after she'd left. I didn't know that Mac stood leaning against the other side of the door, her eyes closed and her teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep herself from crying.

The next day we both boarded two different airplanes with two different destinations and embarked upon two different roads – two different paths of life.

But little did we know how manipulating fate was – and how with one little twist, it could send two different roads on a crash course to become one . . .

**A/N: Will post chapter 2 either tomorrow or the day after. **


	2. Bury the Hatchet

**A/N: Wow, not too shabby for a story that nearly everyone's already read. More reviews than I expected. Well, as promised, here's the next chapter.**

**Note: This chapter starts off in Mac's POV. Actually, it starts off in Mac's diary. And yeah, it's not humor yet, but I swear it will get there. I told you, the first few chapters are actually kind of depressing.**

**Note 2: This version of chapter 2 has differed from the original. **

**Bury the Hatchet**

**Mac's Diary**

**July 14 –**

_Today has to be the most brutal day I've ever faced. I'm serious, Diary (does anyone except all the eight year old girls out there actually address their journals as 'Diary' any more?). Now, you must understand, Diary, I have never been one to buy into that whole conventional white-picket-fence lemon-meringue pie-maker idealism but as another year is slapped onto my age I've GOT to reconsider my take on life. Yes, that's right diary. I have officially turned 38. Thirty-eight. As in three decades with a slapped on eight years. Two years away from forty (mid-life-crisis-age) thirty eight._

_And it depresses the hell out of me. To celebrate we went out to the Green Dragon bar of at the corner of Sutton and James. It's not exactly quiet – I'm of the experienced opinion that no bar really is – but it's sort of homey. Like a bunch of people can get together after work and have a grand old time and no one's stopping you. In other words, it's the San Diego version of McMurphy's. God, I miss that place. _

_Bud and Harriet and the kids also came down to see me. AJ's so tall. Seriously, it's unbelievable. For seven he's got a lot of height. And you know what he wants to be when he grows up? Honestly, it's the sweetest thing. A FIGURE SKATER. No joke, I heard Bud and Harriet arguing over it at dinner. Harriet doesn't believe Bud should discourage little AJ from his dreams. And Bud – being a (though very sweet) male – is rather astonished that Harriet IS encouraging it._

_Yeah, it was great to see them again, but they got me thinking – the kids, I mean. Oh hell, Bud and Harriet probably added a lot of thought to my overworking brain too. The Roberts have got this wonderful life – good jobs, four kids, nice home. God, what chance do I have of that now? I'm THIRTY-EIGHT._

_Besides, I ruined my chance. My one actual shot . . . and no, I'm not talking about Mic. It would have been called a marriage; it may have even looked like a marriage. But it wouldn't have felt like one and it certainly wouldn't have been one. No, Diary, you know who I'm talking about. You-know-who, He-who-must-not-be-named. A.K.A. Squid, Flyboy, Stickboy . . . Harm._

_But it wouldn't have worked. Really, it wouldn't have. This past year is proof. Sure, it began easy enough. The informal but at the same time emotional emails updating each other on what we did that day. The frequent phone calls made just to hear the sound of each other's voices. The casual admission that the new level our careers had taken were definitely more pressuring. Harm had been very comforting to talk to every time I got fed up with Vukovic (God, help me, the General stuck me with him. I swear Harm must have been laughing all through the eight hour flight to London). _

_And then slowly, very slowly, the every day emails became every two days, every three days, once a week . . . once a month. It was just easier. It had been a simultaneous silent agreement between the two of us. Every time I read one of his emails, every time I heard his voice over the phone, a party of my heart soared out to him. It didn't matter that he was seas away, on a whole other continent. Harm was Harm. And as he had once told me, continents don't change who we are. God, how friggin smart he is._

_San Diego was like starting with a clean slate. I was in a different position, with all new coworkers (save Vukovic, who I really could have done without) a whole new city, practically a whole new life. But Harm was the last connection. The small string left to unravel. The lifeline. And it was just too painful to cling any longer. I let go . . ._

**Harm's Journal**

**July 14 –**

_Today's Mac's birthday. I hate myself._

_God, all I've done since I've gotten home from work was drink warm Coke (yes, my fridge is STILL missing in action) and flipped through my old photo book (you never TRULY realize what a deep impact someone made on your life till you see at least a hundred pictures in a row of them in what's supposed to be your just-looking-for-a-hobby scrapbook.) _

_I've got a picture of us dancing together at the Surface Warfare ball. I've got this great picture of Mac and Jingo covered in mud in the Roberts backyard (oh, did I give Mac a playful push inthe mud . . ? Gee, that happens to slip my mind). And then the picture right next to it shows Mac's creative revenge (Jingo's tackling me because Mac poured meat sauce down the front of my t-shirt – which I gave up trying to recover from the massive stain). But as I flipped to the last page, my heart just broke. The very last picture was one of Mac on her last birthday. I've got my arm around her and she's got this humongous white blob of icing on her lips from her birthday cake and from the look in my eyes that I'm giving her in the picture, I'd like nothing more than to just lick it right off._

_All day at the office I just sat in front of my computer slapping at the keys trying to find an e-card for her before finally giving up. We haven't talked in months, anyway. She's probably forgotten me. Either that or she probably won't care. No, scratch that. She probably hasn't forgotten me – Mac's got a killer memory. But she definitely won't care. _

_Besides, she's moved on. I mean, she has to have. I, the King of Stuck in the Past, have now got Jean. And I mean, she's great. She's fun, she's entertaining – but that's all. I know what I'm doing, I'm perfectly aware of it. I'm ambushing my own relationship. I'm stalling. No, scratch that. I'm running._

_I don't want to be alone._

_She's gone. Mac, I mean. I let her go. I watched her slip away. Like water in my hands she trickled through my fingers – cool, clear, like a long drink after a walk through the dessert. Or no – like a gasp of fresh air in a breathless night. I've never been one for words – but I'd told her._

_Almost._

_I mean, I proposed. That should have said enough. You propose to someone you love. Had I ever proposed to any of my exs (or is it exes)? The proposition in and of itself should have said something. But what if Mac hadn't interpreted it that way? What if she'd thought it an easy out?_

_But marriage isn't an easy out. Not by any means. But it would have ensured the fact that Mac would be my future. I mean – she's already my past, and . . . dare I say present? I have Jean. Jean is my girlfriend. And I like Jean a lot. But I have never felt anything as powerfully as what I do for Sarah Mackenzie._

_Dare I bury the hatchet? A part of my mind knows it's the only way to move on. But there's only one thing stopping me. There only has ever **been **one thing stopping me. And it's Mac. Plain and simple. If this was anyone else. And I mean it, ANYONE else, I could do it. _

_But she's forgotten me. I know she has. I'm just another guy who proposed to her. And lord, she didn't even say YES to me. I'm as good as a faded picture in an old album. Opened once and a while just for a little dusting. _

_Just bury the hatchet, Rabb. Bury the hatchet. I'm in a new city. I have a new girlfriend. I have a nice place to live (where in no place of the apartment building has ANYONE been murdered) and a comfortable life. That's right – just bury the hatchet._

_

* * *

**0854**_

**Colonel Mackenzie's Office**

**San Diego**

"Ma'am?"

I look up from overtop of my vertically magnificent stack of paperwork to see Tiner wheeling in a TV screen. "Yes, Tiner?"

"The General has issued a video conference with you," Tiner seems rather perturbed by the lack of warning he got. Having had personal experience with Tiner's rather . . . _interesting _technological skills, he and I both have plenty of reason to worry. I get up from my desk and walk to the screen, briefly helping him to plug in wires (that's all I'm good for anyway when it comes to cables and stuff). In a mere minute the screen is featuring a rather stern image of the General.

"Colonel Mackenzie?" from the aggravated note in his tone I take it he can't see me. It takes Tiner and I five minutes to find the correct wire that hooks the camera up to the rest of the equipment. And by that time we've got a very pissed General on our hands.

"Finished, are you?" he asked sarcastically.

I nodded and seated myself in front of the camera. "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about, sir?"

The General jumps right to it. "The conference."

A long pause on my end. "The conference . . . sir?"

I receive a stern look through the screen. "The JAG conference, annual . . ." My memory clicks in and I nod. I can already tell he's exasperated with me. "We've set a date and location."

"That's good, sir," I reply affirmatively. Honestly, I don't know why he couldn't just have told me this over the phone, for Christ's sake.

He stares at me, his eyes willing and powerful. Suddenly, I'm put off balance. The General almost looks . . . caring. I feel nervous. "The last week of July."

I nod only mildly surprised. Usually the conference takes place around August. "Where, sir?"

And his eyes are on me again, x-raying me, searching for thought. His exterior remains strong, however. Radiating power. He opens his mouth, I can see the syllables forming upon his lips. My brain freezes. My heart stops. No, it can't be. It just can't . . . And then everything comes crashing down.

"London."

* * *

**1654**

**Captain Rabb's Office**

**London, England**

"Here, sir?" I sit on the edge of my desk, my body tense and mortified. I try to read the General's expression through the camera but it's next to futile. He owns nothing but the extreme professionalism that most COs do.

"That is what I said, Captain." The General's eyes shift to mine, almost intensely. "Two weeks time."

I just sit their stiff, unmoving. Somewhere in my brain there must be _some _registered thought. Where it is, I wouldn't know. "Two weeks time," I repeat dumbly.

"In London," the General says again. Now he's just treating me like an idiot.

"Yes, sir," I replied stiffly.

I can feel the General's gaze follow me as I shift uneasily on top of my desk. Can he read my thoughts? No, he can't . . . it's impossible. Or so I keep telling myself. "And . . . everyone will be there?"

"Selected members," the General went on, his eyes never leaving me. "From our quarters there will be Commanders Roberts and Turner, Lieutenant Vukovic, Colonel Mackenzie . . ." the list goes on but my brain momentarily pauses while my heart flips within my chest. _Mac._

The General must have noted the rather spaced out look I wore for he sighed heavily, adjusting in his seat all the way back in Virginia. "Take care, will you, Commander?"

"Yes, sir," I replied passively. I can't help it. The palms of my hands are all sweaty. "See you soon."

The screen blackens as the conference ends.

_Bury the hatchet. Yeah . . . right._

**A/N: Review if you feel like it. I appreciate reviews. **


	3. Impersonality Disorder

**A/N: Hey all, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going away on Friday. No worries, that will not stop the chapter flow, but it might be a longer space between them. Instead of two days, maybe three. But again, they won't totally stop. However, ATJP (my other story) might only be updated every four days. It all depends on how busy I'll be.**

**Note: This chapter starts off in Mac's Diary. **

**Impersonality Disorder**

**July 15, 2005 – **

_I hadn't expected it. I couldn't have NOT expected it. It doesn't matter where it is, or when it is – I couldn't avoid it forever. I couldn't avoid him forever. Yes, Diary, you know who I mean. You don't need me to spell it out for you – quite literally._

_Ha ha, I'm not funny. No, I'm just reeking of this damn depressing kind of hilarity I can't seem to shake. I was a grand wreck after that video conference ended. I'm glad it finished as soon as it did. Honestly, I am. I was a whole jumble of nerves afterwards. Tiner can attest to that fact, I'm sure. I mean, Tiner's too polite to SAY anything – that's just the way he is. But I could see it in his eyes when he steered the TV out of the room. He was looking at me kind of funny. I gave him a small lopsided sort of smile, one that should have said that I was alright and not to worry about me but one that clearly ended up having the opposite effect. _

_I spent all day in my office, mindlessly slapping the keyboard. I would see him again. I mean, it was bound to happen SOME time. Right at the beginning I hadn't fooled myself into thinking he would just fade away. But the fact was that my body couldn't stop tingling. It started right down from the tips of my toes right to the very top of my forehead. I know, it sounds girly, teenager-ish, but I honestly could not help it. In fact, once or twice, I may have even let out a giddy laugh._

_That's not to say I'm not nervous as hell. I think I may just suffer an emotional break down. But it's the prospect of seeing him. I can't help NOT think about it. I can imagine his smile, the way his eyes flash, the way he runs his hands through his hair when he's thinking. God, he proposed to me and I turned him down! Am I an idiot or what?_

_But it was for the best. Honestly, it was, Diary. You might not think so – seeing as you have been rather exposed to the written form of my constant infatuation with him. But it wouldn't have worked out. It really wouldn't have. He's in the NAVY, Diary. The NAVY. And I'm a Marine. Now tell me, how would THAT have worked?_

_Yes, I know what you're thinking. I did accept the proposal from Mic. But that was different, Diary! I swear it was. First, he was from the Australian Navy. And it's really very different there. I mean . . . come on, he was foreign. There's an exception for foreigners. And second of all, if it wouldn't have worked out, it wouldn't havebeen tremendously horrible. Now, I'm not taking divorce lightly or anything. No, I'm not. I'm just saying that there wouldn't have been much harm done. He would have gone back to Australia (which he did) and I would have stayed here (which I did) and then we would have both gone on with our lives as though nothing happened (which we try our best to do). It wouldn't have been like what would happen if Harm and I were in the same position. _

_No, Diary, I am not a hypocrite. Whatever you are thinking, I'm not like that. Harm and Mic ARE different. They just ARE. When Mic and I broke up he went to Australia and I stayed here. We were oceans apart! With Harm it would have been . . . one office over. How would I have been able to bear that if things hadn't worked out? One of us would have had to leave JAG! And he's worked there longer . . . it would have only been fair that I should be the one to leave._

_Yes, yes, I understand you, diary. It could have worked out. But what if it didn't? Seriously, just think about the horror forone minute. One of us would have had to have given up their JOB to be with the other. As in, I would either resign from the Corps or Harm would from the Navy. And if it hadn't have worked out, where would that leave us? Where? _

_And no, that's not all. I've loved the past nine years. I loved every minute of them. I may not have loved being in Russia with our plane being shot down or flying with Harm and being shot down by poachers, or actually being in Paraguay and getting shot down . . . you know, getting shot down in general. But I was with him, Diary. There's honestly no experience even remotely close to it._

_I didn't feel safe. I honestly couldn't have. And it's not like I wasn't afraid. Hell, yes, I was. But when I was with him, all the fear that I'd had for myself just transferred to him. It was like I didn't care about what happened to me as long as he was alright. I can't even begin to tell you what it was like when he crashed in the Atlantic. I can't. You remember that night; your blank pages were the only thing that kept me going, Diary. That and . . . the hope._

_The hope, the prayer, the tremendous longing for his life that filled every square inch of my body. It scared me half to death, but not more than the fact that I might never see him again. That I might lose him. Nothing had prepared me for that, Diary._

_We've been in many dangers together, I know. But the whole point was that we were in them TOGETHER. When we were in Panama and we had our guns drawn in front of us, and I could see the other man, the barrel of his gun directed straight at Harm's chest – I didn't think. There was no time to. I acted. I whirled around and shot him with the deadliest aim possible. I was scared – but I had been there. I would give my life up for Harm. I know it,and the thought shakes me so badly, I'm terrified. But that night in the Atlantic he was all alone, with no one there to die for him. And I was scared numb._

_So do you understand why it wouldn't have worked out, Diary? I don't want to be one of those women who lived with a man for a few years in happiness, then had a foul turn and for the rest of her life looked back upon those years with bitterness and resentment. I couldn't stand it if that happened. I love those nine years. _

_And now I've got two weeks to both mentally and emotionally prepare myself for the subject of my past. _

_

* * *

**Harm's Journal** _

**July 14 –**

_She's coming. Oh my god, she's coming. Yes, SHE. She's coming to London. To London. To see me. Well, okay, not to see me. But she will see me. We'll see each other. I'll see her. And she'll see me. In London. Here. Can you tell my brain hasn't been functioning properly all day?_

_I can't tell you what it was like to hear those words coming out of the General's mouth. I would try – I really would. But I might end up verbally messing up one of the perhaps most happiest moments of my life. Mac is coming here to London. She's coming back to me._

_Yes, I realize what an utterly hopeless romantic I have become. Not that Mac and I have anything . . . you know, romantic going on. We haven't spoken in months. I mean, it's not like that's MY fault or anything. It's as much mine as it is hers. I always replied to her emails . . . it's not my fault if we stopped using the phone. Besides, who uses the phone anyway? I mean, anyone other than Jean. Jean and email do not quite get along. _

_We just drifted. That's all we did. Drifted a little ways apart. It's only natural. I'm sure it happens all the time between friends. You know, two different countries and all. Yes, it happens all the time. I'm sure it does. I mean, just because Bud and I parted and because of the distance and everything made us make even MORE of an attempt to keep in touch doesn't mean anything.Really. Mac and I are different. I'm sure she's been busy. I mean, if her work life is ANYTHING like mine, we've got two fine excuses. And if she has someone like Jean to tie her up, well there's no telling when she'll get her next breath . . ._

_I mean, I HOPE she doesn't have someone like Jean. Or, I mean – don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous. I'm perfectly fine with . . . whoever Mac associates herselfwith. I just don't want her to get into anything . . . you know, deep. Because Mac doesn't really have the best track record with . . . persons of the opposite sex. Not that I really do either. But only one of my . . . okay, only two of my girlfriends have died. And with Mac, well – she shot her ex-husband. Not that I can blame her or anything. I mean, seriously – he was nuts. Well, not nuts per say . . . but you get the point. And then there was Dalton . . . I never much liked him. But hey, at least Mac didn't shoot him. Alright, so I guess we're about even on the death front. But Webb faked his death twice – doesn't that count?_

_Alright, I'm stretching it. I get that. But Mac went through a LOT of boyfriends. I mean, seriously – she kept them for a few months and then they dropped! Like they were flies or something. At least I kept my girlfriends up for a while. But . . . what's worse, do you think? Going through a lot of people quickly or sticking around with someone for a year or so before realizing they're the wrong one? I suppose when I word it that way you're inclined to choose the latter. Believe me, you're not the only one._

_But Jean's not like that, honestly. I mean, she's nice – in a very general kind of way. I mean, she isn't like Renee (who although had her charms was known to be quite a bitch). I mean, Jean means well – and I'm sure Renee did too . . . in her own creative way. Jean's quirky, fun to be around. I can't say I've ever seen her angered or depressed. It would be like erasing a whole part of her face if I saw her without a smile. And she's interesting. I mean, she's a got a great view of life. It's sort of . . . refreshing, if you know what I mean._

_But she's provisional. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. I've got a tough job that requires a lot of hours and a lot of patience and if I have that then I just can't fit in a great social life. It's just not possible. So I need someone that doesn't need a lot, that can be loved without being IN LOVE. And someone who I can just . . . have fun with. Unwind from a hard day. _

_Perhaps it sounds bad, you know, like I'm sabotaging my own relationship or something. But I'm not . . . I mean, Jean and I are two very different people. I honestly believe that what Jean and I have is the most that Jean is willing to commit to. Which is fine, because at the moment I don't feel like committing to anything much either. The only woman I've ever proposed to turned me down. She TURNED ME DOWN._

_And you know what the sad part is? The truly depressing part? I can't wait to see her again. I've known her all these years. I've seen her smile, I've seen her cry, and I've seen her laugh. I've done all of the above things with her. And then she rejected me. It was tender, it was light, and it felt like a knife stabbing through my heart. And I still want to see her. Wait, nix that; I want to see her BADLY._

_I should phone her. Just to hear her voice. But no, that's stupid. And I'm bound to say something I'll regret. And besides, no one uses the phone any more. You know, except for Jean. _

_Email. I'll email her. How long has it been since we've written? Forever, I guess. I'll just . . . tell her what time to come and everything for the conference. That's right. And if she alreadyknows – well, she'll be reminded. And if she doesn't . . . she should email me back thanking me, right? Right? RIGHT?_

_Please, God. Just send me a sign . . . should I email her or should I not?_

_I do believe the silence is God's way of saying it's my decision._

_Thanks for all the help. Really, truly. Thanks. _

_

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)** _

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com**

**Subject: the conference**

Hey,

I hope your email hasn't changed. It's kind of been a long time since we've spoken so I wasn't really sure. Anyways . . . how have you been? Work giving you any time to breathe?

I just wanted to let you know that the conference dates have been set to the 27th of July. And, well, depending on how much needs to be discussed it could go on for anywhere a between a week or two.

Just thought I should let you know incase you weren't informed. Oh, and the first meeting begins at two o'clock on the twenty-seventh here in London.

And the weather's nice but rainy. Just warning you.

Love,

Harm

P.S.: do you know if Harriet and the kids are coming with Bud to the conference?

* * *

**A/N: Okay, survey - who's absolutely infuriated by Harm's lack of personality in the above email?**


	4. Under the Weather

**A/N: Hey all, I'm in the UK for my vacation and jeez . . . it's cold. I mean it; the skies are grey all the time, it rains, and it's chilly. Damn depressing, if you ask me. Hey, maybe if you review, you could brighten up my day. **

**Oh god, did that just come off as cheesy to you as it did to me? Because on my side of the glowing computer screen, it was like the moon just landed on my office table. And while I'm still complaining, these damn English keyboards are DIFFERENT than the American. I'm a fast typer, I do not look at my keys. I'm typing up the new chapter to ATJP and look up to see a screen filled with gibberish. The 'Enter' space is replaced by '#'. Ugh. Keyboards should be universal. Yes, when I'm Emperess of the World, the first thing i will do is make the American keyboard universal. **

**Anyways, seeing as I'm done ranting - major thanks to Jenny for sending me TLWL. As stupid as it sounds, I did not have my own copy saved. This one's for you, Jenny!**

**Under the Weather**

**July 16, 2005 –**

_Oh. My. God. He emailed me. I'm serious – he actually wrote to me. I mean, sure – it was as impersonal as a block of ice, but he wrote to me. I honestly don't know what I'm getting so hyper for. We've been writing to each other for the last nine years. Yes, on and off – but who's to point that out? _

_But I can't tell you what it was like, Diary, to just open up my email and to find a message from HIM in my inbox. It was like . . . taking in air after spending hours trapped under the ocean. You're deprived of oxygen so long that you almost forget how good breathing felt until you come out of the plunge._

_And that's what we're doing, Diary. We're plunging. I know it. We're friends. We WERE friends. Are we still considered friends if we no longer speak? But that's not true. He emailed me. He actually emailed me! But still . . . two months, one email. Are we really so far away from each other that we can't even speak any more?_

_I mean, it's not as if his email was very . . . detailed. He says nothing about his life, just like I've said nothing about mine. We're empty, we're impersonal, and dammit, it's annoying. I want us to be back to the way we used to be. The way we've always been. Light, trusting and yes, Diary, caring – but I don't want you thinking about where I'm going with this because you're wrong. Harm and I are JUST friends. We've never been . . . more than that. Not that I'm saying that I don't want to be more. I mean, for god's sake the man proposed to me – I'm pretty sure he had something more on HIS mind too than friendship. But the fact is . . . we're not ready._

_I know that sounds stupid. Nine years of friendship and we're not ready for the next step. But we aren't, Diary,wereallyaren't. I don't want Harm to be just another Mic – someone who proposed to me but we never went through. I care about Harm too much for that. And besides . . . our careers would never let us. Somewhere up there, where God presides, we must have done something that really ticked him off in our past life to deserve this kind of luck. _

_What did the General mean by separating us? Is this our message saying to move the hell on? Harm said this was a test of fate. Well a fine test it is. Two people – the best of friends – have not spoken to each other in the last two months and the one message that comes through pretty much says – hi, it's rainy in London. Oh yeah, and by the way – you're coming to London._

_Can you GET more impersonal? I mean, SERIOUSLY. That's like me saying, 'Hi, I know I'm coming to London. And don't worry, I packed my rain coat.' We are probably the worst communicators in the world. And – if it's this bad writing an e-mail to each other (which we should be able to do with one hand tied behind our back and not a knife pressed up against it) how are we even supposed to SPEAK to each other when we get to London? What am I supposed to say?_

_I mean, don't get me wrong, I can't WAIT to see him. Did I just write that in capitals? Oops. But seriously, I can't. Is it this deprivation of he and I communicating that is leaving me at a longing for London or is it . . . well, how it's always been. Just how Harm and I are._

_But it feels different this time. Really, it does. I know I said that the last time, and the time before that, and hell, probably the time before that. But this time feels more different than any of the other times before! I've never been away from Harm for so long before . . . it's driving me insane. I mean, he went away to the Patrick Henry – but that was only for a few months, and we at least emailed each other. I mean, it actually FELT like Harm was emailing me. His last email could have been anyone talking. He talked about flying, and the sky, and about the awful food, and how much he missed DC, but you could tell at the same time, even though he complained about the showers and the food and his lack of sleep and the enormous amount of work he encountered, he was enjoying himself. That much I could read in between the lines._

_See, Diary? THAT'S how we used to be. And THAT is what I want to be like now. Is it so bad that I just wish everything would turn back to normal again? That we could just go back in time? I wonder how many times that wish has been uttered or written in the whole length of time. Millions, probably billions of times. But this is different. Or, it should be deemed different._

_How come everything involved with Harm is always so different?_

_If you could tell me that, Diary, I'd greatly appreciate it._

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the conference**

Hey,

It's good to hear from you. It's kind of been a long time since we've written. Works been . . . the usual. Let's just leave the horror at that. Vukovic's been . . . himself. That'smore than enough to keep everyone on their toes.

I'm going to be catching a flight on the twenty-sixth so I'll reach London at approximately ten in the morning your time. Oh, and Vic's coming with me. Me and Vic on a plane for eight hours. Remind me again why the General stuck him with me?

Rainy, okay – but how cold is it in London?

Love,

Mac

P.S: I don't know if Harriet and the boys are coming with Bud but I'll ask her and then e-mail you when I know.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8tbarney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Harm**

Hi,

Oh my god, Harm emailed me and I replied like such a total idiot! I raved on about what a pain in the ass Vukovic is – which I know Harm knows and I didn't exactly _say _pain in the ass, but Harm can fill in the blanks!

I sounded like a total bumbling idiot. I resorted to asking how cold it was in London. No, I did not ask how HIS work was going or how HE'S doing – I asked how cold it was. How COLD it was.

Just shoot me,

Mac

P.S.: Harm wants to know if you and the kids are coming with Bud to the conference.

P.P.S: Are AJ and Jimmy STILL hooked to Barney?

* * *

**Harm's Journal –**

**July 16, 2005,**

_She emailed me back. I mean, I sounded like a TOTAL idiot when I wrote to her. Letting her know it was rainy? My god. No one talks about the weather. I mean, unless you're old, you're wrinkly, you're seventy and you're beginning to lose a little feeling in your right leg. THEN you ask about the weather. But you don't bore your . . . almost fiancée . . . with weather news. If she wants to know about the weather in London, she would turn on the TV like any normal person. God, why can't I just stop talking?_

_Or writing. Yes, controlling my writing would most certainly help. I'm always putting my foot in my mouth – most of the time I actually think Mac ENJOYS watching me screw up. No, nix that – I KNOW Mac enjoys watching me screw up. _

_You want to know the sad part? The truly depressing on the verge of pathetic part about it? If it makes Mac happy, I don't mind so much. I know, I know – I am a loser. But honestly, I like her laugh. I like the way her eyes light up when she smiles. Hell, I just like her smile. And when I've gotten myself into some sort of unspeakable trouble, she's always there laughing me on. _

_I can just imagine her sitting there, looking at the computer screen and thinking 'oh, my god, what a dork. Did he ACTUALLY propose to me?'. And every time that thought leaps into my head my stomach starts flipping. What about Mac makes me so nervous? Is it the fact that she's a Jarhead and a damn fine one?_

_No._

_Is it the fact that every time I'm around her – no matter where in the world we are – I always seem to fumble my words or do something stupid?_

_No._

_It's the fact that every time she smiles at me I get weak in the knees or every time her hand touches mine sparks run all the way up my body. It's the fact that I can get so lost in her eyes I don't even THINK about getting myself out and every time she's mad at me, every time I'm mad at her, I feel like I'm missing something. Like I'm Peter Pan and I've lost my shadow. _

_And you want to know the truly irritating part? It won't work out! It doesn't work out. Somewhere up there, some force of nature is having a huge laugh by twisting our lives the way they do. When Mac's ready for something more, I'm not, and when I'm ready she's not and over the past nine years we've jumped back and forth like this – like we're some freaking Ping-Pong ball and when we're both finally in the right place at the right time – we're sent across the seas to two different countries, two different CONTINENTS. Yes, thank you, Lord for hating me the way you do! I appreciate it, truly._

_I am stuck in a country where I'm laughed at because I keep on saying pants whereas I SHOULD be saying 'trousers' and then everyone's confused because 'pants' in England actually means 'underwear'. How am I ever supposed to get THAT straight? And then they all start talking about the telly which gets me confused in the first place because a) I do not know what the hell a 'telly' is and b) now that I've found out a telly is actually a television, they start referring to it as 'watching the box'. God, is TV so complicated? TWO letters, people! Something we people in America like to call an abbreviation. _

_And MAC. Well, SHE gets to go off to a state ruled by a movie star with a funny accent that dalks like dis. At least she's still in the United States and can go into a shop and ask someone for a pair of pants without getting their ears laughed off! _

_WHY DOES THE WORLD HATE US? WHY DOES GOD HAVE TO TORMENT US? ARE THE PEOPLE UP THERE HAVING A FUN TIME WITH US, GOD? JUST WAIT TILL I COME UP AND JOIN YOU! _

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the conference**

Hey,

Well, it sounds like your work days are . . . action-packed at the least, what with Vukovic running around the office and all. If I died and just laid all day in my grave, looking up at the shell of my coffin for all eternity – it probably would not be as boring as my job is at the moment. I sit at my desk sifting through paper, stamping some of them, signing my name on others. Eight hours a day, seven days a week. I'm almost missing Vukovic.

It's good that you're catching an early flight – you know, arriving in the morning and all. Some people are arriving just an hour before the conferences start. Some people Sturgis, mainly.

Oh, and it's not all that cold in London. I mean, I'd pack a sweater or two, but most of the time you can go out in short sleeves.

Love,

Harm

P.S: you call him Vic now?

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: She calls him Vic**

SHE CALLS HIM VIC! I mean, Vukovic – you remember Vukovic, don't you? The pompous ass, swell-headed kid that attacked our office last year? Well Mac calls him Vic!

Vic! As if they're on first name terms or something! No, she's heading in San Diego. They shouldn't be on first name terms . . . I mean, we never called the Admiral anything but Admiral! Do you think he's calling her Mac? Or Sarah?

Vic! That's an abbreviation of his LAST name too! I mean, Lieutenant Vic . . . how is anyone supposed to take him professionally? Vic . . .

Harm

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (I8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Harm**

Oh, now do you honestly believe that Harm thinks of you as an idiot for that email? He wouldn't think that, Mac, and you know it. Harm's too sensitive for all that.

And Harm knows better than anyone the various pains of Lieutenant Vukovic. He was partnered with him for that one court-martial. The Dream Team, remember? Not that you'd be likely to forget, of course.

But don't come down too hard on yourself for asking how cold it is. The temperature's a thoroughly appropriate subject. I mean, it's not as if you asked if it was raining – this is temperature.

And Mac, on a slightly more personal note – it's really been a long time since you've last emailed him, huh?

Oh, I've got to go – AJ just got into the Fruit Loops and he's stuck them all over the walls.

Love,

Harriet

P.S.: yes, me and the boys are coming with Bud. I wouldn't MISS the chance to see London.

P.P.S. YES! And if I ever meet the man beneath the purple suit, I'll shoot him.


	5. Online Assistance

**A/N: Okay, i'm very well aware that this is the JAG section and not the SVU section but WHO SAW 'FAULT' ON TUESDAY? It was amaaaaaaaaazing. Please review if you saw it, I need to rant about how incredible it is. **

**Online Assistance**

**1056**

**JAG Headquarters,**

**July 17, 2005**

**mutheruv4: **So what did HE say?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet, for the love of god will you stop e-ing me at work. The General put a ban on instant messaging last week!

**mutheruv4:** He's not in your office - how will he know?

**Mac'n'cheese: **that's not the POINT, Harriet! I'm supposed to be working! What if one of MY officers found out I was spending the day IMing my friends! I'll be laughed out of the office.

**mutheruv4: **you're overreacting. And if anyone DOES catch you - fire them. Now stop avoiding the subject. What did HE say?

**Mac'n'cheese: **He as in Harm?

**mutheruv4: **Y as in YES.

**Mac'n'cheese: **jeez, you don't need to be sarcastic.

**mutheruv4: **When Harm's concerned everything needs to be spelled out for you.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Ouch

**mutheruv4:** Oh, get over it - now seriously, what did he say?

**Mac'n'cheese: **I don't know if I want to tell you any more.

**mutheruv4: **Maaccc.

**Mac'n'cheese: **He didn't say anything important okay? He seems bored at work and . . . he also says it's not that cold in London.

**mutheruv4: **And that's ALL you talked about?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Hey, I came to you in my weather crisis - and you said the temperature is a thoroughly appropriate subject!

**mutheruv4: **Appropriate, yes. Interesting - no.

**Mac'n'cheese: **thanks

**mutheruv4: **I'm just saying . . .

**Mac'n'cheese: **I don't want to know what you're saying, Harriet. Frankly, your thoughts scare me.

**mutheruv4: **Hmm . . . that's what Bud says.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Look, Harriet - it's good enough that Harm and I are just TALKING. We haven't said two words to each other in months. Even if we are only discussing Vic and the weather - it's at least something.

**mutheruv4: **Vic?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Lt. Vukovic

**mutheruv4: **I KNOW who he is - but did you call him Vic in front of Harm?

**Mac'n'cheese: **. . . maybe

**mutheruv4:** boy, Mac, you sure know how to play 'em.

**Mac'n'cheese: **I beg your pardon!

**mutheruv4: **never mind.

**Mac'n'cheese: **I'm not PLAYING Harm!

**mutheruv4: **of course you're not

**Mac'n'cheese: **besides, what would Harm care if I called Vukovic Vic?

**mutheruv4: **I think Harm would care very much.

**Mac'n'cheese: **that's where you're wrong, Harriet. Harm's moved on.

**mutheruv4: **Mac, he PROPOSED to you! A man just doesn't move on after something like that!

**Mac'n'cheese: **he just has

**mutheruv4: **right, because Harm's never been known for dwelling the past, right?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Hey, that's mean

**mutheruv4: **sorry, it's the hormones

**Mac'n'cheese: **huh?

**mutheruv4: **I think I might be pregnant again.

**Mac'n'cheese: **YOU WHAT!

**mutheruv4: **shh, stop shouting. I can hear you clearly.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Are you sure?

**mutheruv4: **I haven't tested yet - but having gotten pregnant four times, I think I might be qualified to say.

**Mac'n'cheese: **CONGRATULATIONS. Harriet, that's wonderful!

**mutheruv4: **Yeah, well don't tell Bud yet. I want to make sure before I surprise him.

**Trekkie2000 has been added to this conversation**

**Trekkie2000: **Mac, Harriet, you're not supposed to be e-ing during work! The General said . . .

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet's the one that keep's e-ing me!

**mutheruv4: **oh cut us some slack Bud. I slave away at home all night taking care of your four children while you review case files - and you're telling me that I can't have a tiny conversation with my friend in some of the only peaceful time I get a day!

**Mac'n'cheese: **Take it easy, Harriet

**Trekkie2000: **if the General catches you . . .

**mutheruv4: **fine, but u can make dinner tonight AND pick up AJ from soccer practice.

**Mutheruv4 has logged off.**

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off.**

**AlmightyGeneral has logged on.**

**AlmightyGeneral: **Commander Roberts! You know the policy on instant messaging during the work hours.

**Trekkie2000: **yes, sir.

**AlmightyGeneral: **don't let me catch you doing this again, Commander, or there will be series consequences.

**Trekkie2000: **yes, sir.

**AlmightyGeneral: **now bring me the files on the Collins court martial - and fast.

**Trekkie2000: **yes, sir.

**AllmightyGeneral has logged off.**

**Trekkie2000 has logged off.**

**Mac'n'cheese has logged on.**

**Mutheruv4 has logged on. **

**mutheruv4: **don't you just love beating the system?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Ah, it's my one pleasure of working every day.

**mutheruv4: **so I'll see you in a week and a half?

**Mac'n'cheese: **you can count on it - oh, Tiner's calling me. Gotta go.

**mutheruv4: **Bye.

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off.**

**Mutheruv4 has logged off.**

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney (at) hotmail (dot) com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (Sarah (dot) Mackenzie (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**Subject: Talk to HIM**

Hi,

Okay, so Bud caught us e-ing. There's no ban against e-mail in this office, is there? Now, listen, go online tonight at . . . a late hour, because it will be early in the morning or something over in London. And just talk to him okay? The faster you speak, the better the conversation. If you have all this time to type a message (I know you take hours Mac, you hit the delete key almost as much as you hit the lettered ones).

Now, before you press the DELETE button on me – just remember. You're going to see him in London. Don't you want to at least be able to HAVE a conversation that won't start with, "Oh, it's raining."

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney (at) hotmail (dot) com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (Sarah (dot) Mackenzie (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**Subject: I will NOT!**

Hi,

I will not even attempt to begin the thousands of reasons that I have NOT to start an online conversation with him. I will mess up, make a fool of myself, or even worse – we'll dive into all those horrible memories that we've spent all these years trying to forget.

Do you think he's just going to wake up one morning and just FORGET that he proposed to me!

I hurt him, Harriet. I hurt him badly. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me for it. I don't know if I'm even ready to forgive myself. Could we just . . . leave it at that for the moment?

When I'm ready to talk to him . . . normally again. I'll let him know . . . and then maybe I'll let you know too. LOL – now seriously, stop e-mailing me, I'm getting nothing done.

Mac

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (Harmon (dot) Rabb (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (Sturgis (dot) Turner (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**Re: She calls him Vic**

Alright, I order you to BREATHE. Follow my lead, buddy. Breathe in . . . and out . . . in . . . and out . . . have you calmed down now? Listen to what I'm about to tell you. Let it go in one ear and STAY THERE.

Vukovic is an ass. Mac does not like asses. Mac does not take to Vukovic, I can't say the same vice versa but the point is: MAC AND VUKOVIC WILL NEVER HAPPEN.

So just chill, will you?

Your friend,

Sturgis

P.S.: will you stop bugging me about my flight? I'll arrive on time, okay?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (Harmon (dot) rabb (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (Sarah (dot) Mackenzie (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**Re: the conference**

Hey,

are you delusional, flyboy? You MISS Vukovic! I miss the NON-Vukovic days. Ah, and so far in the past they were. So – where's the conference going to be held? There's an awful lot of people coming, aren't there? Now that there's more chains of command and everything.

And for god's sake, Harm, your job can't be any more boring than mine can. You sound like Chegwidden – take the comment any way you want to.

Love,

Mac

P.S.: Harriet and the kids are coming with Bud.

P.P.S: I'm online tonight at around eleven (hopefully I'll have all my papers done by then) and . . . I don't know what time that is for you in London but . . . whatever, doesn't matter.

* * *

**Harm's Journal**

**July 17, 2005 –**

_Good lord, she drives me crazy. And I mean it very literally in the best way possible._

_She's going to be on at eleven o'clock her time. The time difference is eight hours. I'll have to wake up at SEVEN o'clock. Ugh, I swear . . . I'll have to drag out that alarm clock that Jean got me for my birthday (in a not-so-subtle way of hinting that I should be on time more. I mean, jeez, you're late for ONE date and she gets all uptight . . . okay, it was the two hours kind of late, but the night before I'd come back from Russia. I was beat.) _

_I should be worried. Seriously, I should. I mean, not about Jean. Jean's just fine. I mean about Mac and me. It's been ages since we've seen each other. Which, I'm too split on deciding whether that's good or bad. I bet I sound terrible. But she REJECTED me. I . . . I was ready to take the next step and . . . I've never asked anyone else to go as far with me as I did with Mac. Didn't she realize that? I just don't want to split in two again. I'm too damn tired of getting my heart broken continually._

_And I know that too. All Mac's ever given me is heartbreak. Well, no – that's not true. Friendship. She's given me friendship and heartbreak. She's been different – don't ask me how, I couldn't tell you. From the moment I met her, EVERYTHING was different. The first day we knew each other I FELT like I could tell her anything. And for a guy that usually has is guard up 24/7, that's pretty different. _

_And don't think just because you know, I got used to her being around all the time that anything was any different. Every second that flew buy felt like an all new moment, a whole new experience as long as I was with her. And she had the unbelievable ability to coax out the strangest emotions from me. I mean, one smile at another guy she had my ugly green monster rearing its evil fangs internally whereas one smile towards ME on the other hand could melt me into a puddle._

_Who is she AND WHERE DID SHE COME FROM? She looks like a goddess, she's as smart as a whip, and what can I say? She knows how to push all the right buttons and at the right time. And, sure, it infuriates me. No, nix that, it annoys the hell out of me. But I tend to look at it this way – if ANYONE is going to aggravate me to the extent that Mac does, it better be her._

_Twisted logic? Yes, I do believe it is. Ugh, I've got to go to bed now – if I even stand a chance getting up in time to talk to Mac. Why does she do this to me, Lord? She knows I can't get up on time if my life depended on it. Why does she wish to torture me? Because . . . and I grin at myself as I write these following words:_

_Because she's Mac._

_

* * *

_

**To: Sturgis Turner (Sturgis (dot) Turner (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (Harmon (dot) Rabb (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**Subject: new problem**

Hi,

Okay, forget about Vukovic (or _Vic _as Mac would say). I'm onto a fresh new crisis. I'm supposed to meet Mac online tomorrow morning!

Your desperate friend,

Harm

P.S: you so will not arrive on time. You'll get hung up at the airport, your flight will depart late, arrive even later, you won't be able to get a taxi and then you'll come into the conference room drenched in rain and insufferably tardy.

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (Harmon (dot) Rabb (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (Sturgis (dot) Turner (at) theJAGoffice (dot) com)**

**Re: new problem**

Okay, so let me get this straight: you e-mail me in your pre-midlife-crisis to scream and rant about how a girl you don't even TALK to anymore, that you haven't seen in a whole YEAR, calls some guy who you know she doesn't like by an abbreviation of his last name – WHICH, if you remember, my severely deluded friend, you call Mac by – an ABBREVIATION OF HER LAST NAME.

So now you've moved on to your new emotional disaster: you're meeting her online.

Forgive me if I don't see the problem,

Sturgis

P.S: my god, you make Kurt Cobain look like the world's greatest optimist. I will make it on time, okay?

* * *

**A/N: New chapter (okay well old) will be posted on . . . saturday maybe. Or Friday. I don't know . . . when I get around to it. **


	6. Back on the Bike

**A/N: Hey y'all. I was busy as hell. No excuse though. Will be reposting the entire thing. Thanks to Lauren for e-mailing me in plea to get this story going again. It worked. **

**Note: The following is an instant messaging conversation**

**Back on the Bike**

**mutheruv4: **you did it!

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet, stop e-ing me! The General will catch us just like he did Bud! Or worse – someone in MY office will find out we're online!

**mutheruv4: **never mind that, I'm so proud of you!

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet, I have no idea what you're talking about.

**mutheruv4: **you're ready!

**Mac'n'cheese: **ready to get back to work and stop being IMd every time you feel bored.

**mutheruv4: **Mac, stop playing. I know.

**Mac'n'cheese: **. . .

**mutheruv4: **I KNOW.

**Mac'n'cheese: **oh my god, how do you always know?

**mutheruv4: **You have never heard of the superb psychic powers of a supposedly pregnant woman?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Seriously, Harriet, how did you know?

**mutheruv4: **I dropped off some files for Sturgis in his office when he was out and he had left an email from Harm up on the screen.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet!

**mutheruv4: **Well, I didn't MEAN to peek. It just . . . happened.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet . . . you should be ashamed . . .

**mutheruv4: **oh, give it up, I know you want to know

**Mac'n'cheese: **Translation, please?

**mutheruv4: **I know you want to know what the message said

**Mac'n'cheese: **No, I do not. What Harm said to Sturgis is Harm and Sturgis's business. And ONLY theirs.

**mutheruv4: **oh, my friend, how severely disconnected you are from the gossip world – living in San Diego.

**Mac'n'cheese: **where I live doesn't matter! This is WRONG, Harriet. Repeat after me, WRONG.

**mutheruv4: **Mac, there's nothing wrong with finding out what a man says about you! Now please, just tell me that you want to know and I'll be more than happy to tell you what he said.

**Mac'n'cheese: **It's still wrong, Harriet

**mutheruv4: **But you do want to know

**Mac'n'cheese: **. . . that doesn't matter

**mutheruv4: **he's crazy about you

**Mac'n'cheese: **He is not!

**mutheruv4: **is too

**Mac'n'cheese: **he didn't actually say that

**mutheruv4: **. . . not in so many words

**Mac'n'cheese: **good bye, Harriet

**mutheruv4: **wait, don't go! I'm bored to death

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet . . .

**mutheruv4: **He's nervous about talking to you tonight.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Nervous as in . . . he doesn't want to talk to me?

**Mutheruv4: **Nervous as in, excited as hell

**Mac'n'cheese: **How much of his message did you read!

**mutheruv4: **. . . most of it

**Mac'n'cheese: **_Harriet_

**mutheruv4:** all right, all of it

**Mac'n'cheese: **that is wrong, and I don't want to know

**mutheruv4: **okay, so you think my . . . "information" . . . was obtained through

**Mac'n'cheese: **wrong means

**mutheruv4: **that was what I was going to say

**Mac'n'cheese: **yeah, right

**mutheruv4: **so would you use this . . . informationif you think it was obtained properly?

**Mac'n'cheese: **I sup – wait, no – NO!

**mutheruv4: **theoretically speaking, of course

**Mac'n'cheese: **THEORETICALLY, speaking – yes, I suppose so – but you DIDN'T obtain said info properly so there's no point in discussing this any further. And I know this might come as a shock to you, but I have work to do.

**mutheruv4: **be right back

**Mac'n'cheese: **and it's not that I don't appreciate your involvement, Harriet. Really, honestly, I do – I don't know what I would do without you! But . . . I can take care of the Harm situation myself. Honestly, what's happening right now is for the better. Can you understand that?

**NavyMan10 has been added to this conversation. **

**mutheruv4: **welcome, Sturgis

**Mac'n'cheese: **Sturgis?

**NavyMan10: **Mac, it's been a long time.

**mutheruv4: **alright, cut the chitchat. Sturgis, your presence is this conversation is about to become very important. Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you god?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet! Shut up!

**mutheruv4: **Don't worry, Mac – I know what I'm doing. Now, Sturgis, do you swear to tell the truth?

**NavyMan10: **Wait, this is why you just barged into my office demanding that I go online? To question me . . . Mac, should I be scared?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Go, Sturgis, run while you can

**mutheruv4: **nonsense, now Sturgis – do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you god?

**NavyMan10: **Harriet what are you doing?

**mutheruv4: **oh come on, you all get to play lawyer every day! I sit hour after hour surrounded by files! Now let me have my fun – Commander Sturgis Turner, do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you god?

**NavyMan10: **I – I do, I guess

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet, please don't go where I think you're going

**mutheruv4: **shh, I know what I'm doing, Mac. Now, for my first question – did you or did you not receive an email from a Captain Harmon Rabb today?

**NavyMan10: **What?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet . . . please!

**mutheruv4: **Just answer the question, please, Commander.

**NavyMan10: **Um, yes . . . yes, I did.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Alright, Harriet, that's enough. You've had your fun.

**mutheruv4: **But I haven't even begun!

**NavyMan10: **well, ladies, as much fun as it has been – I've got to get back to work.

**Mac'n'cheese: **ditto

**mutheruv4: **no, no, wait – don't either of you go, yet. Sturgis, could you please inform the court that nature of this message?

**Mac'n'cheese: **The court?

**mutheruv4: **what, isn't that what you people say?

**Mac'n'cheese: **well, yes, but . . .

**NavyMan10: **I'm not liking the direction in which these questions are heading.

**mutheruv4: **oh, suck it up – now please, answer the question.

**NavyMan10: **It was of the personal nature, alright?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Enough said.

**mutheruv4: **and what was the subject of said message?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet!

**mutheruv4: **hey, I was more than happy to tell you – but NO, you wanted to obtain the information in the RIGHT way.

**NavyMan10: **excuse me?

**Mac'n'cheese: **never mind, Sturgis. And that's NOT what I meant!

**mutheruv4: **oh no?

**NavyMan10: **well, this has been lots of fun, ladies, we should do this again some time. But I've really got to return to work.

**Mac'n'cheese, mutheruv4: **stay where you are

**mutheruv4: **this is a perfectly legitimate way of exposing information

**Mac'n'cheese: **but, maybe, Harriet – maybe I don't want to find out.

**NavyMan10: **I'm confused.

**Mac'n'cheese: **maybe I want to find all these things out for myself! I don't want you to tell me or for Sturgis to tell me or for ANYONE to tell me. I want to experience all these things myself. I want to be selfish and make this experience all my own.

**mutheruv4: **Oh, honey, all you had to do was just say that from the beginning! I never would have meddled if I'd known . . .

**NavyMan10: **you know, it wouldn't hurt to tell me what's going on here.

**Mac'n'cheese: **look, Harriet, I've had so many chances with Him. And I've just got to face it, I blew at the last one. And now all I'm interested in is being friends. And I can handle that, alright?

**mutheruv4: **oh, don't say you blew it. There's still hope. Where there's a will there's a way.

**NavyMan10: **he proposed to her, Harriet. And she turned him DOWN.

**mutheruv4: **no one's asking you, navy man. Besides, you have no idea what we're talking about.

**NavyMan10: **maybe not, but I have a pretty good idea of WHO you're talking about.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Alright, that's enough, you two.

**AlmightyGeneral has logged in.**

**AlmightyGeneral: **I was not aware, colonel, commander, and lieutenant, that I was paying all of you to chat up a storm all day.

**NavyMan10: **forgive us, General, we were discussing a highly important subject.

**AlmightyGeneral: **which would be . . ?

**Mac'n'cheese: **the Watkins court martial, sir.

**AlmightyGeneral: **I was not aware that the Commander and the Lieutenant were briefed on that specific case.

**mutheruv4: **well, that's what we were talking about . . .

**AlmightyGeneral: **well, though I don't doubt your integrity is in all the right places, colonel, commander, and lieutenant, could you please find another way to keep yourselves informed that does not involve Instant Messaging? You're senior officers, you're supposed to be setting examples for new comers. Now, Turner – I want the Higgins papers on my desk and Lieutenant, please retrieve the Garmont file for me.

**NavyMan10: **yes, sir.

**mutheruv4: **yes, sir.

**AlmightyGeneral: **Colonel, I trust that everything's in order and I look forward to seeing you at the conference in eight days.

**Mac'n'cheese: **yes, sir.

**AlmightyGeneral: **now, I don't mean for this to sound crude but – get back to work.

**mutheruv4: **yes, sir.

**NavyMan10: **yes, sir.

**Mac'n'cheese: **yes, sir.

**mutheruv4 has logged off.**

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off.**

**NavyMan10 has logged off.**

**Mrs. AlmightyGeneral has logged on.**

**Mrs. AlmightyGeneral: **Gordon?

**AlmightyGeneral: **yes, dear?

**Mrs. AlmightyGeneral: **I'm so glad you came up with this Instant Messaging idea. You know, when we get home . . .

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: 20 minutes!**

Hi,

I'm meeting her on in twenty minutes! TWENTY! What am I supposed to say? What if I say something stupid? You've got to help me!

Harm

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: 15 minutes and counting**

Hi,

Okay, remember what I said today about wanting to experience it on my own and blah blah blah? FORGET THAT. He's coming on in fifteen minutes and I have no clue what I'm going to say! Why did I even TELL him that I'm going to be on. I am freezing up right now!

Dammit, I'm so nervous my HAND isshaking,

Mac

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: 20 minutes!**

Hey Buddy,

I must say I'm impressed. Not only do you get up for Mac's conversation on time – but you're twenty minutes early! Now why didn't you put that same enthusiasm into arriving on time when you were here at JAG?

Never mind, I'll never understand you. But back to your "current situation". What do you normally talk about? Just . . . wing it.

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: 15 minutes and counting**

Just calm down. Remember, this is HARM. You've known him for years, you've been friends pretty much since the moment you met each other. This should be easy. It's like riding a bicycle, Mac.

You never forget,

Harriet

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: 10 minutes**

Wing it? Wing it! WING IT! What kind of best friend are you? I am going to SCREW UP. I am going to say something stupid, and irrational, and something I never should have said. Hell, I might even end up proposing to her again.

THEN WILL YOU BE HAPPY, DAMMIT?

I am going to see her in six days, Sturgis! Six freaking days – and I'm nervous as hell. What if I say something tonight that will get her mad at me? How are we going to live for that week or two at the conference? I am going to DIE.

Your distressed friend,

Harm

**

* * *

**

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: 7 minutes**

I don't want any freaking bicycle analogies, Harriet! I am meeting him on in 7 minutes! Help meeeeeeee!

This bike is going to be so broken.

Mac

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: 10 minutes**

Hi,

You will not die. You will talk with her, you will laugh with her. You will have a generally good time. You will sign off. You will go to work. Six days later you'll meet her. You will talk with her, you will laugh with her and you will have a generally good time with her.

Now suck it up, because you have five minutes!

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: 7 minutes**

Just think positive thoughts. Breathe in, breathe out, think about the good old days. Just . . . chat. About anything, even! Keep yourself calm and in control, and don't forget to tell me what you're talking about!

Now, I've got to go give the twins' their baths but . . . I'll be back soon. Don't forget details!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: 10 minutes**

Oh my god, two minutes, two minutes – TWO MINUTES. Should I sign on now? No, I'll look too eager. I'll sign on in exactly two minutes. But then again, maybe Mac's already on line. You know her sense of timing. Then we could get a jump on our conversation.

Oh my god, it's one minutes now. Officially one minute to go. One minute!

Harm

* * *

**Mac'n'cheese has logged on.**

**FirstClassFlyboy has logged on.**

**Mac'n'cheese: **hey

**FirstClassFlyboy: **hi

**Mac'n'cheese: **so . . . how's everything going over there?

**FirstClassFlyboy:** um, it's good. Yeah, it's pretty good. You?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Not bad. Pretty boring though.

**FirstClassFlyboy: **I can't see how that would be – considering you spent the afternoon IMing.

**Mac'n'cheese: **. . . and you know about that.

**FirstClassFlyboy:** what can I say, I've got friends in high places.

**Mac'n'cheese: **and what do you do all day? Sit and talk to Sturgis?

**FirstClassFlyboy: **I heard the General caught you.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Don't change the subject.

**FirstClassFlyboy: **what were you talking about?

**Mac'n'cheese:**I can see your insatiable curiosity has not dampened in the slightest since we last parted.

**FirstClassFlyboy:N**or has your golden tongue ceased to talk yourself continually out of trouble.

**Mac'n'cheese: **Pardon me? You act as if _I _was the one in trouble.

**FirstClassFlyboy: **hey, you joined me in my escapades.

**Mac'n'cheese:**you and your ego . . . lol

**FirstClassFlyboy (pausing):**god, it's good to talk to you again, Mac

**Mac'n'cheese: **yeah . . . I've missed talking to you

**FirstClassFlyboy: **ditto

**Mac'n'cheese: **hey, Harm?

**FirstClassFlyboy:** yeah . . .

**Mac'n'cheese: **can we . . .? I mean . . . uh

**FirstClassFlyboy: **Always, Mac. Any time. . . Now seriously, what were you talking about when you were IMing Harriet and Sturgis? Or should I say who?

**Mac'n'cheese:**you'll never stop, will you?

**FirstClassFlyboy: **You know me, Mac. I never stop until I get what I want.

**Mac'n'cheese: **And when you get what you want . . .?

**FirstClassFlyboy: **I treasure it for all eternity . . .

**

* * *

**

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: What's Happening?**

Hi,

I just finished Mitch and Nikki's bath. Now update me – what's going on? You're still on line and that means you've been talking to Harm for over an hour! Come on, fill me in!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: So . . .?**

Hi,

Well, don't leave me dangling here! What HAPPENED?

Sturgis

* * *

(**hours later)**

**FirstClassFlyboy: **well, I've got to get going for work

**Mac'n'cheese: **yeah, I've got to go to sleep

**FirstClassFlyboy: **so . . . same time tomorrow?

**Mac'n'cheese: **sure – bye

**FirstClassFlyboy: **wait, Mac

**Mac'n'cheese: **yes?

**FirstClassFlyboy: **. . . never mind . . . never mind. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

**Mac'n'cheese: **okay – bye

**FirstClassFlyboy: **oh yeah, and Mac?

**Mac'n'cheese: **yeah?

**FirstClassFlyboy: **I had fun . . . this morning

**Mac'n'cheese: **I had fun too, Harm

**FirstClassFlyboy has logged off**

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off.**

**A/N: I will try and repost every day or every two days till we're all caught up. (For those who don't know, this story was like thirty chapters originally then the ff net deleted it so now i'm reposting). Reviews are appreciated. **


	7. Step by Step Directions

**A/N: See, I really am posting faster. I wanna get caught up on this story so I can finally finish it. Only like . . . fifteen more chapters to post. Yaay.**

**Step by Step Directions**

**mutheruv4:** hmm . . . okay, clean uniforms? (dress/formal)

**Mac'n'cheese:** check

**mutheruv4:** okay, civvies for both cold and warm weather?

**Mac'n'cheese:** check

**mutheruv4:** comfortable shoes?

**Mac'n'cheese:** definitely

**mutheruv4:** book for the plane?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I can't decide, Da Vinci Code or To Kill a Mockingbird?

**mutheruv4:** haven't you read both?

**Mac'n'cheese:** well . . . yeah . . . but they were both really good!

**mutheruv4:** go with which ever one's longer . . . you read fast

**Mac'n'cheese:** anyways – back to the check list. Deodorant?

**mutheruv4:** oh damn . . . thanks for reminding me . . . check

**Mac'n'cheese:** let's see . . . what else – oh, you've got your blackberry, haven't you? PLEASE tell me you've got your blackberry.

**mutheruv4:** Relax, take a breath. I wouldn't miss carrying this thing around for the world.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Doesn't it rock that the General got the government to loan them to us for the conference?

**mutheruv4:** Tell me about it – I think everyone that's going has one . . . at least, I saw both Sturgis and Jen with them . . . and I mean, I know Sturgis is a senior officer – but Jen!

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet!

**mutheruv4:** I didn't mean it THAT way. What I MEANT to say was that Sturgis and Jen are of such . . . rank-related variety that it would SEEM as if they're giving the blackberries to everyone.

**Mac'n'cheese: **nice recovery

**mutheruv4:** thanks

**Mac'n'cheese:** but it's a real shame we don't get to keep these things. They're handy . . . especially email-wise

**mutheruv4:** I know! This'll be great, especially for baby sitting.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Oh yeah, I meant to ask – what are you going to do about the kids while you're in conferences?

**mutheruv4:** well, hopefully Bud and I will have alternating seminars, different ones for different positions. And seeing as I am (unfortunately) under filing duty . . . well, hopefully Bud and I won't run into too many problems. But if we DO have the same seminar then . . . I don't know, we'll TRY and find someone to watch them.

**Mac'n'cheese:** If I'm not in the seminar I'll be glad to watch the kids, Harriet.

**mutheruv4:** oh, nonsense, Mac! I couldn't ask you to do that . . . with Commander Rabb on the prowl

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet!

**mutheruv4:** figure of speech.

**Mac'n'cheese:** my ass, it's a figure of speech. Harriet, there's nothing going on between me and Harm.

**mutheruv4:** and with that attitude there never WILL be!

**Mac'n'cheese:** . . . well, maybe that's for the better.

**mutheruv4:** no, no, NO! No pessimistic talk like that. We are going to get on that plane tomorrow, depart for London, and you are going to meet the love of your life, and it'll be like the happy ending of some long awaited fairy tale.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet, this is not Cinderella and I'm not getting ready for the ball. I'm going to London on business. Everything is going to be strictly professional . . . did you try out the personal email on the blackberry yet?

**mutheruv4:** yes, isn't it wonderful? Practically instant messaging, and stop changing the subject!

**Mac'n'cheese:** you're the one who changed the subject! We're supposed to packing here . . . now, how many pairs of socks do I need?

**mutheruv4:** hmm . . . hard to say. I doubt we'll be able to do laundry there. But then again, if you go over to Commander Rabb's apartment . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet! Stay on topic! How many pairs of socks!

**mutheruv4:** you're blushing just thinking about it aren't you?

**Mac'n'cheese:** that's not the usual facial expression that comes to mind when I'm thinking about socks.

**mutheruv4:** With all do respect, ma'am . . . you're hopeless

**Mac'n'cheese:** thanks, truly. Sincerely.

**mutheruv4:** I mean, not in a BAD way . . . but you just have to make the effort. Didn't he make the effort?

**Mac'n'cheese:** If you call 'making the effort' proposing to someone before telling them you loved them, before even going on a date, before all that and then suggesting that they move halfway across the WORLD to be with them then he definitely made the effort.

**mutheruv4:** and you were touched. Mac, why didn't you just say yes?

**Mac'n'cheese:** because . . . because he loves the Navy, he truly does. And I love being a Marine. And it would have meant the end of one of our careers. Besides . . .

**mutheruv4:** besides what?

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet, he never once said he loved me. I think . . . Harm's never been good with change, you know? He doesn't like to feel that the present day is slipping away from him. He likes to be in control. And . . . I think he was just scared of losing me.

**mutheruv4:** Mac, he has every right to be scared . . . but that doesn't mean his proposing to you was based on that reason alone. I think that's actually what got him kicked into gear. He thought he had all the time in the world to propose, and then suddenly when there's a deadline . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** it's not just that! We've been together TEN years. Well, okay . . . we didn't really speak much this year. But besides that, NINE years! Don't you think that if ANYTHING were to happen, it would have happened already?

**mutheruv4:** it sounds like you've made up your mind before you even gave it a shot.

**Mac'n'cheese: **I have given it a shot, Harriet. I've given it plenty of shots. When I'm . . . ready, he never is. And when he is . . . well, it's only when I have one foot out the door. I've seen the routine too many times to think he actually CARED about me, Harriet.

**mutheruv4:** you don't think Harm cares about you?

**Mac'n'cheese:** no, I mean – OF COURSE I DO. He's been through hell and back for me . . . and I'm grateful. Honestly, truly I am. But . . . it's not enough that he cares _about _me. He's got to care _for _me. Do you understand where I'm coming from? He can't just love me as a friend . . . it's got to be something more. And with Harm . . . I don't even know if he KNOWS the next step. I've never seen him take it.

**mutheruv4:** Mac, there are plenty of ways to look at love – there's the scientific way with all the little steps and the trips and that will get you nowhere when it comes to action – and then there's doing what your heart tells you. Mac, I think Harm loves you in every way possible.

**Mac'n'cheese:** But Harriet, this is not ninth grade! This is not some stupid end of the year dance where everyone pairs up because they think they like each other! We're adults, and we never even got as far as a couple of teenagers!

**mutheruv4:** you're saying you never danced?

**Mac'n'cheese:** No . . . I mean, of course we have. But not in THAT way!

**mutheruv4:** What way?

**Mac'n'cheese: **the I want to BE with you way. You know . . . we're FRIENDS, Harriet. Friends dance . . . but in a different way. Ugh, come on – I know you're just trying to get weasel me into some little verbal corner.

**mutheruv4:** Mac, I am appalled! To think that I would weasel anyone into a little . . . corner. I was just stating the obvious.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Care to elaborate, counselor?

**mutheruv4:** that your and Harm's "feelings" go deeper than friendship.

**Mac'n'cheese:** I do not how you put little quotations around our "feelings" for each other. What did you mean by that?

**mutheruv4:** well, Mac . . . you've got to admit. You and Harm have never been the most emotionally . . . connected.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Again, what do you mean by that?

**mutheruv4:** We all KNOW there's attraction between the two of you, but it's never seemed to be strong! Or . . . not strong enough to get you through . . . whatever you're going through. Every time it seems like one of you is about to take a step forward, the other takes two steps backwards.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Hey, I'll have you know that the attraction between the two of us IS strong! It's stronger than you'll ever BELIEVE. And as for this little step dance that you seemed to have portrayed – I'll admit there have been quite a few steps backwards, but there were LEAPS forward, Harriet. LEAPS. And that'll overcome steps any day! And so you can just stop undermining Harm and my "feelings" towards each other and . . .

**mutheruv4:** . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** why Harriet Sims, you royally played me.

**mutheruv4:** I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.

**Mac'n'cheese: **the proverbial verbal corner . . . and I even taught you that.

**mutheruv4:** well, you ARE the best in the business, Mac.

**Mac'n'cheese:** I surrender my crown to you, Harriet.

**mutheruv4:** Oh, wait – one sec. AJ's coming down the stairs holding . . . oh my god, is that a FROG!

**Mac'n'cheese:** what, where did AJ get a frog from?

**Mac'n'cheese: **Harriet . . ? Harriet . . .?

**mutheruv4:** HI AUNT MAC! IT'S ME, AJ! GUESS WHAT I JUST GAVE MOMMY!

**Mac'n'cheese:** what, AJ?

**mutheruv4:** A TOAD! IT'S BIG AND IT'S BROWN AND IT LEAVES GOO ALL OVER YOUR HAND WHEN YOU TOUCH IT. WANT ME TO GET YOU ONE TOO?

**Mac'n'cheese:** no thanks, maybe next time, AJ.

**mutheruv4:** omg, that was the GROSSEST thing that I have EVER touched! It was brown and it was . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** gooey. I know, AJ told me.

**mutheruv4:** He was on IM?

**Mac'n'cheese:** yeah, just now. Why . . .? You don't think he . . . saw anything, do you?

**mutheruv4:** well, I mean . . . he can read, sure, but I don't think he could read ALL of the words in our conversation, much less understand them all . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** and besides, who's he going to tell? He's seven years old.

**mutheruv4:** yeah . . . yeah . . . help convince me, Mac.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet, he's a seven year old boy! He has better things on his mind then his gossiping aunt and mother! He's probably . . . blowing up a lego castle right about now. Or torturing his little brothers, or . . .

**mutheruv4:** thanks, that's quite enough ideas, Mac! The way you make it sounds, one might think I was raising a terrorist.

**Mac'n'cheese:** lol

**mutheruv4:** yeah, laugh all you want. But you're not the one that has to get up at six a.m. tomorrow to bathe her probably screaming brawling crying little children, then clothe them, then feed them. Then pack their suitcases (again, because AJ and Jimmy took the house as tornados and unpacked all of the previously packed suitcases) and then of course we have to arrive at the airport on time, check in the luggage, and –

**Mac'n'cheese:** alright, Harriet, you're making me dizzy just thinking about it.

**mutheruv4:** yeah . . . and . . . oh, okay, Bud's yelling at me to get off the computer (as if HE has anything important to do on it) and he still thinks we're doing the packing check list.

**Mac'n'cheese:** which we SHOULD be doing . . . okay, so where were we?

**mutheruv4:** socks

**Mac'n'cheese:** oh right . . . how does ten pairs sound?

**mutheruv4:** ten pairs? You're VISITING not MOVING.

**Mac'n'cheese:** jeez, fine . . . how many pairs then?

**mutheruv4:** seven – so that if you stay longer than a week you have a iron clad excuse to go over to Harm's apartment to wash your . . . ahem, socks.

**Mac'n'cheese:** you're so bad

**mutheruv4:** hey, maybe you could take some of my laundry over too! That way you could stay extra long . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** I'm logging off now!

**mutheruv4:** ugh, I SHOULD log off now . . . it's about time I did. Oh, no . . . Mitchell's just entered the room and he's covered in blue paint. He's got blue all through his just-two-hours-ago-washed blond hair. . . . (whimpers) save me!

**Mac'n'cheese:** kiss Mitch for me, I'm going to have a nice long bath!

**mutheruv4:** can Mitchell join you? I swear he doesn't splash that much.

**Mac'n'cheese:** I like to keep my bathtubs baby free, thanks anyways though.

**mutheruv4:** I'll see you at the airport tomorrow.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Count on it.

**mutheruv4:** Bye

**Mac'n'cheese:** Bye

**mutheruv4 has logged off.**

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off. **

**

* * *

**

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: my new blackberry!**

Hi,

Alright, here I am at the airport emailing me from my new blackberry! Honestly, have you EMAILED someone off it yet? It's really lovely – I've got to get myself one of these. But seriously, where are you and Bud? I'm at the gate to the terminal and you guys haven't showed yet. We're supposed to board in fifteen minutes.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: my new blackberry!**

We're COMING, okay? We were about to leave the house when AJ just needed to go to the bathroom so we stopped and waited for AJ to finish his business. He took FOREVER. And then we're halfway to the airport when Jimmy needed to go the bathroom so Bud had to pull over at the nearest gas station for him to go and then as SOON as we get to the airport, the twins have both left us presents in their diapers.

What can I say Mac? I should have just named all my kids JOHN, they're in their so damn much.

You're bathroom sick friend,

Harriet

P.S: John Number 1 just ran ahead. See if you can see him, will you?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: my new blackberry!**

Does John Number 1 come in the form of a blonde speeding bullet that insists upon going by the name 'AJ'? Because if so, I am currently holding John Number 1 in captivity upon the arrival of his parents – WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE BOARDING A PLANE IN FIVE MINUTES!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: See, we made it okay**

Ha,

See, we made it on the plane with two minutes left to spare AND we got to board the plane before you because of the Johns. Hee hee hee, I could have loaned you one of them if YOU wanted to get on the plane early too – you know, the 'small children' excuse? I swear John Number 3 is quiet as a mouse as long as he's away from the other Johns.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Remind me again which one John Number 3 is?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Mitchell. Now what seat do you have? I can't see you from where we're sitting – we're 27 A, B, C, D, E, and F.

Isn't this so exciting, Mac? We're going to London!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Congratulations! You guys officially make up an entire row! And you can't see me because I'm on seat 4 B and stuck in between a woman whose breath smells like smoke and a guy who won't let me have an inch of armrest.

Wanna trade places?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Believe you me, you don't WANT to be sitting with this crowd. AJ just spat gum into Jimmy's hair. And what do you know? I'M the one sitting with AJ and Jimmy. Bud got the quiet peaceful sanctity of the twins.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Harriet,

There's no such thing as 'the quiet peaceful sanctity of the twins'.

And look at it this way – the more excited that AJ and Jimmy are in the plane, the more tired they will be when we actually LAND in London. It's eight hours, Harriet. We ARE supposed to sleep on the plane. EIGHT HOURS.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Stop reminding me.

Harriet

P.S.: John Number 2, coming your way – catch him for me, will you? I lost him around the bathroom area.

P.P.S: YES, he had to go again!

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

No need to worry. John Number 2 is safe and sound and is currently sleeping in my lap. Question: now that he is ACTUALLY sleeping, do you really want to move him?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Oh, Mac, I couldn't have you with Jimmy on your lap all night. It would be uncomfortable and as you have constantly reminded me, it's an EIGHT HOUR flight.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

It's no trouble. Honestly, Harriet. This way you'll get some rest, and AJ will get some rest, and maybe Bud and the twins will get to sleep and Jimmy's already out like a light. I don't mind it, he barely ways anything.

Now, I'm going to turn my light out. I think I'll go to sleep along with Jimmy.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: See, we made it okay**

Well, if you're sure then. The moment he becomes too heavy or out of control, you know where our seats are.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)Roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: stop emailing Mac!**

Honey, you're not supposed to have blackberries out when you're on a plane! It interferes with the . . . electrical . . . thingy. Anyways, you're not supposed to have those things on. And for Christ's sake, you were talking to Mac until midnight last night. You're on the same plane, you know.

Bud

P.S: where's Jimmy?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)Roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: stop emailing Mac!**

Oh, plenty of people use their blackberries on planes, Bud. Look, the guy sitting behind you isn't supposed to be using his cell phone either, BUT HE IS. And I'll have you know that the woman I am conversing with happens to have John Number 2 on her lap so please . . . show a little respect.

Harriet

P.S.: how many more hours?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)Roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: stop emailing Mac!**

Johnny whatsit?

Bud

P.S.: 6

* * *

**Travel Journal of Sarah Mackenzie**

Well, today dawned bright and early. I know I said Jimmy (or John Number 2) is light – and he is. He's small and even thin for his age, but when you have someone of his weight sleeping on your lap for seven hours . . . those past days when you could FEEL your legs begin to seem like a dream. And he kept ROLLING around!

I just delivered him to his seat. Mitchell and AJ are still out like a light but Nikki seems to be wide awake and insatiably hungry. According to Harriet, that's Bud's problem. He took the twins, he took Johns 1 and 2. And besides, she said as I stared at her beseechingly – Bud packed bottles.

Ten minutes till we land. Alright, I suppose in journals you're supposed to confess things right? You know, like things you might never actually say to anyone in REAL life, just to get it all out? That kind of stuff? Well – here goes.

I'm nervous.

No, not nervous . . . I'm more excited. Definitely excited.

I feel all tingly right now. And no, not the first-air-jump-from-a-plane type tingly or first-date type tingly. It's a whole new kind of tingly. And that scares me half to death. I'm just going for a conference . . . I hate the annual JAG conference. It's a bore, I sleep through it all week and Harm always seems to have his qualls on the week of the conference . . . I wonder how he does it. You are supposed to book several months in advance.

Harm's supposed to pick us up at the airport. That's what Harriet said, anyway. She said she talked to him on the phone last night. I didn't. I mean, we've been emailing and I'm glad to say, oh journal of mine, they tend to get slightly more personal . . . you know, gradually, step by step.

God, I sound like Harriet.

Oh my god, I can see through my window (okay, not MY window, the woman I've christened Smokey Mouth's window) London! I mean, I can see it and all its magnificent slightly weird shaped building and I can even see all the little cars driving around on the little highways! And hey, maybe even one of the cars is Harm's! Yeah, coming to pick us up from the airport!

Oh no, the tingling is back. Dammit, I just HAD to say his name, didn't I?

Oh – we've landed! Our plane has touched the runway! We are moving very fast and my hhhaand is shakking . . . . there, we've stopped. Oh, now we're getting out of the plane. Till next entry,

_25/07/05_

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Okay, I got my luggage**

Hi,

Just got my luggage! Have you gotten yours? God, the crowd is sooo thick, I can't even see you! Where are you? Beginning of the conveyor belt, middle, or end? And where are we supposed to meet Harm? I can go get a trolley for the suitcases and check if he's there if you want.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? Getting a little sneak peek at Harm before we're all there? Oh, and we're at the beginning of the conveyor belt. Bud insists that if the luggage comes out he doesn't want to have to wait for it to come around to him.

Ugh, men.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

I read you loud and clear, girlfriend. Men. (Bud must find this really annoying that we're emailing back and forth right in front of his nose). I mean, it's not like we can say THIS out loud in front of him, but still . . . oh, he just gave us the GLARE, Harriet. THE GLARE. I must say, I'm offended.

Now where's Harm supposed to be?

Mac

P.S.: the twins look like they slept well.

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

Oh yes, the twins are wonderfully well rested. Now, I say we split up and scout around the different sections of the visitors room. This crowd's so big . . . yeah, we definitely need to split up. You take left side, I'll take right, Bud can go right down the middle.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

Okay, I am . . . pushing my way through a rather scary looking crowd (just passed a group of eight Goths . . . and one of them saw me and stuck out his tongue – not as in the little kid making fun kind of sticking out of the tongue, but the rolling deliciously licking kind of tongue). Help me, and I do NOT see Harm!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

Tell me about it! I've got Jimmy on one hand and I'm pushing Nikki's stroller and some GUY just sat down right in front of Nikki and started giving her googly-eyes. I have never pushed a stroller faster.

And I'm very positive Harm is not on this side of the lobby. Maybe Bud's getting better luck.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

Yeah, I definitely think he's on Bud's section. I mean, this crowd isn't too tall and I can't see . . . oh wait, I see him! I see him! I . . . oh . . . .

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Okay, I got my luggage**

Oh what? OH WHAT? Has he like . . . grown his hair something? What? I'm coming over . . . wait, where are . . . oh . . . that's . . . oh . . . no . . .

Harriet

* * *

**A/N: Okay, let's take a vote. Who remembers why Harriet says 'oh no'? If you know, review. If you don't . . . mwahahahahahahahahah. Review and tell me so I can evilly laugh again. **


	8. THE THING

**A/N: lol, I appreciate the amount of votes I got. 20 in less than 24 hrs. So . . . to all those who guessed Jean/Pants/other-incredibly-horrible-names. Ah, well,what can I say? You already knew you were right. **

**THE THING**

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: THE THING**

Alright, what is that THING hanging off Harm's shoulder? You know, the one that looks like she's got a banana peel for hair and has had like . . . double injections of Botox or something?

Harriet

P.S: doesn't Harm look good?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: THE THING**

Harriet! That's not nice. Sure, she does look . . . a little . . . perky, but maybe that's just her nature. And I mean, come on, could we expect anything else? He's been living in London for six months. It's only natural that he would have . . . you know, found himself a girlfriend and –

Oh my god, THAT'S what we're driving in? That small little . . . van! How are we supposed to fit NINE people into that . . . thing?

Mac

P.S: Harriet, you're married with four children! You cannot look at other men!

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: THE THING**

She was HANGING off his shoulder Mac! Can those feeble little spaghetti legs not hold her or something? And she keeps whispering things into his ear! His ear, Mac! That's so . . . WRONG! At any moment now she'll start licking it and . . .

Oh crap, we're at the back. I guess that's not SO bad. At least we're not sitting next to Pants over there. We'll go on either side of Jimmy and Nikki, sound okay?

Harriet

P.S: there's nothing wrong with looking, I've just got to keep my hands off.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: THE THING**

Okay, we've really got to stop e-mailing each other. Harm's staring right at us! Him AND Bud! We look really rude . . . we'll do it once we get into the . . . car like van. Is this really what Harm drives around all day?

And her name is Jean, not Pants!

Mac

P.S: yes, you WILL keep your hands off and keep your eyes to yourself!

* * *

**Travel Journal of Sarah Mackenzie**

Okay, I have been in London for TEN minutes. TEN MINUTES and already this is a nightmare. Harm has a girlfriend! I know I shouldn't be surprised – I know I told Harriet that I wasn't surprised. But dammit, this is a total shocker! All those day's we've been emailing each other, IMing each other, he never had the time to say, 'oh yeah, by the way, Mac, I have a girlfriend.'

And I KNOW I said nothing would come of this trip with Harm and I. I KNOW I said my feelings for him are over and there's nothing but friendship between the two of us. I KNOW, alright? But . . . this puts things in a whole other perspective!

Okay, so you probably want a blow by blow reenactment of our meeting at the airport, well here goes . . .

I see Harm and I'm waving. He looks as great as every, if you know what I mean. His hair's a bit longer, but not too much so that it's not a military hair cut, with his bangs sweeping against his forehead ever so gently. And those eyes . . . blue as the sky on a clear summer day. Not to be poetic or anything. And then he just turns and his eyes fall upon my own, and his face breaks out into a pure broad completely Rabb grin. And I melted. I mean that in the emotionally feels-like-physically kind of way.

And so he pushes through the crowd to get to me, all I can see is his head because, well – he's just so tall. When he finally manages to push himself so that we're three feet away from her – well, that's when I saw her. She was small, short enough to disappear into the crowd, which I guess is why I didn't see her in the first place. And she's a kind of dirty blonde, with excited blue eyes and little tinges of pink in her cheeks. I didn't need to know who she was, I could see names flipping through at the back of my mind. Annie, Jordan, Renee, BARBIE. And she's HANGING onto Harm's arm. Very literally. And I don't wonder why, the poor thing, that's probably the highest body part of Harm's she can touch. Honestly, she can't be more than five feet.

Anyways, Harm immediately pulls me into a one-armed hug (the other is still supporting poor Spaghetti-Legs) and keeps his arm looped around me when Harriet comes. I can remember her expression very vividly. She sees Harm with his arm around me and her face is alight with false hopes when she sees _her, _standing there with her head tilted on his shoulder. And instantly her expression dampens considerably.

"Uncle Harm, Uncle Harm!" And faster than a speeding bullet, Jimmy shoots towards Harm, clipping his arms around Harm's legs. Harm lets go of me in order to pick Jimmy up, resting the young Mr. Roberts upon his shoulders (oh yes, and real-life-Barbie let go of him proving she did actually have legs).

"Why, if it isn't AJ Roberts," Harm said in a mocking tone, bending down slightly to kiss Harriet on the cheek but not so much to unbalance Jimmy on his shoulders.

"Nuh uh, Uncle Harm, I'm not AJ!" Jimmy cackles, evidently having a ball with his long since departed uncle. "I'm Jimmy!"

"Why it must be the young Mitchell Roberts I've heard so much about," Harm taunts relentlessly. "Or is it Nikki?"

"No, no!" Jimmy screams in between giggles (Harm's tickling him). "Nikki's my sister!"

"Then you're Mitchell?" Harm teased, lowering Jimmy down from his shoulders as he sees Bud approaching followed by John Numbers 1 and 3. Jimmy looks up at him woefully. "Or would you be James?"

"I am," Jimmy piped up, extending a hand towards Harm. "But you can call me Jimmy."

Harm grins and ruffles Jimmy's hair as AJ comes running towards him. I swear, Harm's great with kids. He and AJ high five then Harm picks up Mitchell, bouncing him up in the air causing him to giggle. I swear Mitchell has the most infectious giggle I've ever heard. Harm puts Mitchell back on the ground, and then he and Bud hug. No, nix that, Bud and Harm would kill me if they read this. They perform a "manly embrace".

But all I can do is stare at that . . . woman . . . who is now fiddling with the hair on the back of Harm's head. And I can see Harriet's eyes trained on her too. Our thoughts merge together to form one – who are you and what the hell are you doing here?

I suppose Harm saw the direction of our gaze because he immediately puts one arm around Barbie Remake and says, "Um, guys this is . . . Jean."

As if THAT explains anything. I'm sorely tempted to raise an eyebrow but I'm afraid that would be deemed rather rude. Fortunately, Harriet cuts straight to the chase with, "Oh, nice to meet you Jean –" Harriet extends a hand " – so are you and Harm friends?"

And that's when it all came crashing down. Jean smiles, "Um, sort of. Actually, Harmy and I are kind of dating. I came to the airport actually, to see all of you 'cause I could wait to see my little Harmy's friends!"

HARMY! She calls him HARMY! I nearly gagged on – well, air! I can see Harm go a little red around the back of the neck and if ANYTHING good has happened since we landed here in London, it's seeing my flyboy get embarrassed . . . whoa, I just said MY flyboy. God, I did NOT get enough sleep last night.

"Uh, yeah, that's right," Harm says, us obviously treading on an unwanted subject. "Um, the van's in the parking lot so . . . shall we?"

And I do my very BEST not to let jealousy bite me here. Because I have nothing to be jealous about. I'm over Harm. My feelings for him have diminished. He is just my friend. I mean, a very good friend, but I maintain the fact that he is a FRIEND. And if any . . . unpleasant feelings are bubbling within me, then they're just because I don't think the girl's right for him, that's all. Yes, I'm just being a friend looking out for a friend, that's all there is to it . . . why can't I stop babbling.

Okay, so now we're in this crammed van – Harriet and I are in the backseat with Jimmy and Nikki wedged between us. In the middle there's Jean, Mitchell and AJ (AJ is promptly talking Jean's ears off – good on him) and Harm and Bud are in the front seats – Harm driving. And I'm –

Oh, I have mail –

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: Plan of Action**

Alright, Mac, let's discuss it. Here and now – what are we going to do? I can't honestly believe that Harm harbors any serious feelings towards Pants. It will only take a little for you to snatch him away from her. But we cannot perform this operation to the best of our abilities if we don't have a plan of action!

Harriet

P.S: if she pulls Mitchell's cheeks one more time I'm going to sock her.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Plan of Action**

Harriet, no! I told you, Harm and I are over. If there ever WAS a Harm and I there isn't any more. He's with JEAN. Not Pants, not Spaghetti Legs, not Life-size-Barbie. And if Harm catches us saying or writing any of these things we are going to be in so deep!

No plan of action or course of action or whatever! Let's just . . . enjoy the conference, okay?

Mac

P.S: restrain yourself – she's probably never been that close to a cute boy in her life.

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Plan of Action**

First of all – I never called her Life-size-Barbie so I wonder who came up with that . . . hmm? And Mac, be realistic! No one EVER enjoys the conference! We all just go because:

a) we have to

and b) because we get to go out of the country! Or at least to a different state!

Harriet

P.S: I'm willing to bet you that's she's been closer to Harm then just the seat next to him. And wow, we've known her for the last ten minutes and already you've got a chip on your shoulder. Wonder why that is . . .? (wink)

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Plan of Action**

I do not have a chip on my shoulder! And are you sure you never called her Life-size-Barbie? It sounds familiar . . . anyways, kindly do not place pictures of . . . JEAN (I was going to say Jean, stop laughing) closer than sitting next to Harm. This is not how I want my vacation to begin.

Second of all – I do not HATE Jean. I do not KNOW Jean. All I know is she's dating one of my best friends – and I'm HAPPY for him. HAPPY, I tell you! HAPPY!

And . . . look, we're at the hotel already so . . . could we just call this conversation quits? Or at least postpone until we are alone . . . harmless and perhaps even budless if possible?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Plan of Action**

Whatever you say but we WILL be having this conversation.

Harriet

P.S: doesn't the hotel look DREAMY? I can't believe JAG can afford this place! Honestly! Can you SEE that fountain!

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: The Girls**

They're talking about us, you know? Emailing back and forth on their blackberries. They were doing it last night in the plane too.

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: The Girls**

Last night on the plane too? Huh. I mean, I knew they were emailing each other – it's been WAY to quiet in the back seat. Hmm . . . I wonder what they're saying . . .

Harm

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Guys**

You have no idea how lucky you are, Harriet! I mean seriously – Bud's like the sweetest guy every, you've got four beautiful angelic children, a wonderful house, good jobs, nice relatives, friends and – ugh, I'm so jealous!

Why can't I meet one guy that would rather watch a movie with me then watch the Packers play the Redskins. I mean – is a little quality time so much to ask!

Mac

P.S: Are you guys seriously all sharing one room? Don't you think that'll be a little crammed?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: The Girls**

Oh, undoubtedly good things. Probably about us, too.I mean – if they weren't about us, wouldn't they just talk out loud? . . . and if they're about us . . . of course they're good . . .

Bud

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Guys**

Well, **I **wanted to spring for one of those extra large suites, you know – with the three beds and lots of leg room and everything, but no – BUD just had to book us a normal room with two beds, next to no floor space, and he put one of those travel assemble-yourself-crib in one of our suitcases (he bought it yesterday) so that'll probably keep him busy this afternoon. We've never used it before.

And well, we can't put the boys in one bed 'cause they'll fight all night so we've worked it out that I'm going to sleep with AJ and Bud with Jimmy. It's just easier that way – though we might switch it around.

Harriet

P.S: why couldn't Bud just have asked for one of the suites?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: The Girls**

I know – I mean, there's nothing bad about us . . . right, Bud?

Harm

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Guys**

Oh come on, Harriet,

You haven't even SEEN the room yet. Okay, Harm's pulling up at the parking lot – doesn't this look grand? Oh, wow, I hope we get a room right on the top floor. We'll get such a wonderful view then! Oh, okay – time to get out. And I see Spaghetti Legs needs Harm to help her out of the van too.

Cripple.

Mac

* * *

**Travel Journal of Sarah Mackenzie**

Alright, it's official – this trip just got a whole lot better! This hotel is the BEST. I swear – it's got one of those Olympic sized pools and the lobby floors are white marble and the banisters are a really dark kind of red wood and the rooms are the prettiest! I mean, sure, I've only seen my room but it's painted one of those really creamy kind of beiges and it's got very light curtains and the most excellent view!

The TV's kind of small – but who needs the television when you've got a view like THAT right across from your bed! I'm actually looking forward to this next week or two. I didn't think I would after I met Pants . . . I mean, Jean. God, I'm almost as bad as Harriet.

And you know what? She just left. I mean, we entered the lobby and Bud and I went over to check in at the counter and Jean told us all she had to go to work now (she's some sort of fashion . . . advisor thing – don't ask me, I wasn't paying attention) and promptly kissed Harm good bye. In front of us all. Kissed. Harm. In. Public.

I mean, it's not like I haven't seen Harm kiss another woman before . . . well, I mean – actually, he's done a pretty good job of keeping it from me. Really, he has. And it wasn't like it was a LONG kiss – it was short and just . . . well, the good-bye sort of kiss. Not GOOD-BYE good-bye. Just . . . until-I-see-you-again-good-bye.

So now I'm taking my clothes out of my suitcase and putting them on hangers in the closet and of course writing in this journal. I wanted to wear –

Oh, that's a knock on the door, wonder who it is – I'm glad they don't put these little peep holes too high on the doors 'cause sometimes I have to stand on my tippy toes to see who it . . .

Harm.

"Hey, Mac," Harm grins at me as I open the door and admit him into my room. Have I described what he was wearing before in this journal? Hmm . . . (I flip back) no, no I haven't. Alright, well he's wearing these kind of . . . well, not loose, but not tight faded jeans. You know, the kind that fit _just _right – and a dark blue button down shirt. "What are you writing?"

Me: "Nothing."

Harm: "Oh come on, let me have a peak."

Me (smiling): "It's nothing you need to be concerned about." I turn away.

Harm: "I saw my name! . . . Hey, are you writing what I'm saying?"

Me (with a great weight of warning in my tone) : "Harm . . ."

Harm (a touch amused): Never mind. I don't think I want to know. I'm just wondering – do you, Harriet, Bud, and the kids want to go out for lunch or something and then I need to go pick up Sturgis from the airport – you don't need to tag along for that. But then if we meet you here at say around . . . two o'clock, do you want to head to the conference with us?"

Me: Um, yeah – I'd really like that.

Harm (flashing me the wonderful and enchanting flyboy grin): "Great – do you want me to call Harriet or do you want to?"

Me: "I will."

Harm: "Okay – um, could I use your bathroom quickly to change into my uniform? I won't have time to if I go to pick up Sturgis.

Me: "Sure, feel free."

Harm: "Thanks."

And he disappears behind the closed door of the bathroom.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Lunch**

Hey,

Okay, Harm's changing and he just asked me if you guys wanted to have lunch with us. He's got to go pick up Sturgis afterwards but Harm knows the restaurants around here so, what do you say?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

Whoa, girl, slow down there! Rewind! Did you say Harmon Rabb – Captain Harmon Rabb of the US Navy is changing? How do you know? He's changing in your room!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

Easy, Harriet. Yes, he's changing in my room – into his UNIFORM and in my BATHROOM. And for further reference – no, I'm not in the bathroom. Second of all, are you going to have lunch with us or what?

Mac

P.S: isn't this hotel the greatest?

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

Yes, the hotel's smashing. Now down to business: don't worry about us, we can dine in the hotel or something. The crucial things is that you and Harm spend some alone time together. After a few hours Harm will forget all about Jean and will fall into your arms. Trust me, I snagged Bud, didn't I?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

No, you have to come with us! Just now we had the tiniest conversation and . . . well, it was weird! Uncomfortable . . . we will never make it through this lunch if you guys do not come with us! And I've told you before, there's nothing going on between us so . . . stop whatever fantasies are running through your mind Harriet. Right now.

And if you even think about setting us up – oh, he's out of the bathroom. We're coming for you in five minutes.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

Your conversation was uncomfortable? Details, girl – what does that mean? I need to know what I'm up against here . . . wait, you weren't scribbling everything he was saying in your notebook again, were you? Mac, you know that scares guys off! I know you want to remember everything that's happening by writing it down but we've been through this – guys think it's creepy.

Luv,

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

Harriet, I've explained this to you before! When I'm old and I'm wrinkled and unmarried, living in an ugly apartment with nothing but cats to keep me company because I'm too feeble to go walk around a dog, I want to look back in these notebooks and remember when I was young and thin and still attractive to the guys, and I want to remember London, and you and bud and the kids, and Harm and everything!

Now, bigger crisis: what am I supposed to wear? It's gonna be civvies because – well, Harm'll drop us back here in the hotel before he goes to pick up Sturgis and that's when we can change into our uniform but I've been in these clothes for the last twelve hours – I need something fresh. Now get over here, and help me, dammit!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Lunch**

Okay, Harm's in our room now playing with the twins. It's safe to come over. What have you brought along? Please tell me you packed that blue sweater I complimented you on last week. That would go so perfect with jeans.

After all – you need something to override the evil powers of THE THING.

Harriet

* * *

**A/N: Vote now. What seemingly horrible thing should Mac do to – ahem – Jean? (Please feel free to call her Pants or The Thing or any other creative title you should happen to come up with)**


	9. The Slip of the John

**A/N: FINALLY the ff net will let me post. I've been trying to post this chapter for the last two days or something like that. **

**The Slip of the John **

**1228**

**Café Romolta**

**London, England**

**Harm's POV**

"Honestly, Harriet, I can't get over how adorable they are," I say for the umpteenth time, bouncing Mitchell up and down in my lap. He gurgles happily. What an incredibly cute kid. I have to admit it. He and Nikki are identical from the tops of their golden heads to the tips of their toes. Well, excluding the very obvious difference in gender. "They're so much BIGGER than the last time I saw them."

I can hear a very light giggle from the corner of the table and I shoot Mac a pretend annoyed glance. Okay, stupid thing to say – but they HAVE gotten bigger. Sure I haven't seen in them in a year and seeing as the last time I saw them they were . . . well, newborns it was only natural that they would grow. Yes, laugh all you want to Marine, I will have my revenge.

I did not know how true that statement was at the particular moment I thought it. Yes, there was a God somewhere up there. And he was very just.

"Uncle Harm," AJ pulls on my arm from beside me. "Let me sit on your lap."

"Aren't you getting a bit big for that, Buddy?" I looked down at all fifty inches of his height. He looks up at me pleadingly and I roll my eyes, balancing Mitch on one knee and AJ on the other. Boys will be boys. "So," I trail, staring across the table at Mac who is scribbling in that book of hers again. "Miss me?"

Of course, the question is supposed to be directed at the entire table but it ends off on a note that is directly and very accurately pointed at the lovely Ms. Mackenzie. Mac looks up at me, her eyes unglued from her book but her hands still zoom across the page. "Oh, did you go somewhere?"

She flashes me a very lovely smile and it takes me a moment to figure out that I'm already grinning (and very stupidly, I might add) at her anyway. I shift AJ a little more into the center of my legs. How old is this kid again . . .? Seven, right?

The waiter comes to take our order. All of us adults get the soup and salad deal while the young Roberts clan dine on burgers and fries, save the twins who as adorable and lengthwise grown they are, are still to young to eat solids such as burgers.

"So . . ." Harriet trails, attempting to commence conversation. "Your friend Jean is . . . very nice."

Her voice is very oddly stretched with some off colored notes pointedly placed within the phrase. I steal a glance over at Mac who suddenly seems _extremely _immersed in that little notebook of hers. I wonder if she heard the comment . . . No, look at that way she's scribbling almost furiously. She definitely heard it. And how can she not? She's sitting right next to Harriet.

"Yeah . . . yeah, she's nice," I replied slowly, my eyes still trained on Mac. Does she see me watching her? Long strands of brown hair fly down in front of her face. She doesn't once look up. Does she feel me watching her? I smile internally. I had once told Mac that I always knew where she was. It wasn't a lie. I could feel her presence wherever it was, and yet somehow she always seemed to surprise me.

"So how did you two meet?" Harriet asks. I see her body shake and a look of mild pain etches across her face before disappearing almost instantly. Is it just my imagination or did Mac just _kick _Harriet?

"Uh, I went into the store in which Jean works at. I wanted to buy some clothes. Jean helped me pick out the right ones and find my size," I shrugged, trying to downplay the story. No, I will NOT mention she had to measure me to find my correct sizes. "I guess we just hit it off."

I look even harder at Mac now. She makes no attempt to catch my eye if she's even aware that my eyes are ON her. But how could they not be? I watch as her hair sweeps gently across her face and she pushes it back around her ear stubbornly, her eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

"So . . ." I trail, my eyes very blatantly glued to Mac. "You writing about me there again, Marine?"

Mac looks up to meet my eyes and I see something there that I've never seen before – or something that has departed from her eyes long years ago – reluctance, maybe even . . . fear?

"Yes, because I only write to flatter you," she replies sarcastically, but with a smile on her face. But the eyes . . . they aren't smiling at all. Doesn't she know that I know her too well not to see that? Not to realize that she hasn't got her heart into it? Or does she not read ME any more? Have we drifted too far apart?

"Well, write on, then," I grin, leaning back in my chair. "I can only wonder what you say about me."

And that is when God shone down upon me. He sent me an angel, an all seeing eye in a world of good. He sent me seven year old AJ Roberts. "Mama and Aunty Mac talk about you an AWFUL lot," AJ stresses looking up at me from my left knee.

The gagging sound at the corner of the table is my one and only Ninja Girl. She seems to be having a problem with her water going down the right tube. And if I wasn't so interested in what the eldest Roberts boy had to say, I might have shown a little concern. But right now my face is torn between amusement and arrogant curiosity.

"Oh really?" I steel a glance at Mac whose eyes are widened with alarm and sending Harriet panicked stares every millisecond. "And what do they say about me? Good things, I hope."

"That's quite enough, AJ," Harriet quickly interjected, scooping the little snitch off Harm's lap and onto his own chair – incidentally right beside Harm.

"Oh, let the boy speak, Harriet," I coax, flashing her an arrogant, and yet at the same time completely charming grin. "Freedom of speech, you do want your son growing up with that, don't you?" Before Harriet can reply I turn back to AJ. "Now what does your Aunt Mac say about me?"

AJ's face is one of mass concentration. He furrows his eyebrows. "Something about . . . leaps?"

Now, that makes absolutely no sense to me but the look on Mac's face is absolutely _priceless. _It's split between shock, horror, and what is that? The redness around her neck? Could that possibly be embarrassment? Oh my, 'leaps' are absolutely lost on me but the significance to Mac and Harriet – who is looking equally panicked, by the way – is too grand to be dropped at the moment.

"Uh huh, and what about these 'leaps'?" My voice is dangerously close to that of the insatiably curious. "Anything said in particular?"

"Nuh uh," AJ replies, shaking his head, evidently getting bored with this line of questioning. "Mommy was talking about how you and Aunty Mac were . . . stepping. And she said you were leaping!"

Mac's now gone into a coughing fit, perhaps to direct attention to herself and away from AJ, or maybe because she's really coughing. Anyways, I hasten over to her (she's doubled over in her chair) and begin to pat her softly but firmly on her back. And it is then, like always, the actual realization of our proximity sets in. I am kneeling beside Mac's chair, with my hand on her back, and our faces inches away. And of course, the entire Roberts clan just HAS to be watching us.

"Are you okay, Aunty Mac?" Jimmy Roberts, ever the concerned one.

Mac draws a hand to her chest, regulating her breathing by will. "Yeah, I'm good Jimmy." She coughs lightly once more but straightens herself. "I'm fine. Really. Water went down the wrong way I guess." Yeah, SURE. She turns to me, tucking a strand of rich brown hair behind her ear. "Thanks, Harm."

And that is my cue to leave. I'm sorely tempted to press young master Roberts for any more pertaining information but I'm actually sort of scared of what lengths Mac might go to keep me off the trail. What's next, choking? No, I'll corner my godson when it's just me and him – two bachelors trying to survive in the toughest of worlds.

Who am I kidding, I'll squeeze all the info I can out of the kid. And if he can't "remember" – I'll bribe him with candy. Aren't I the greatest godfather to ever live?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: your son!**

Hi,

Remind me to strangle that kid! Leaps, steps – did he read the whole thing! Look at Harm's eyes! Just look at them! See that! He's HUNGRY. Hungry for information, for power – for any excuse to embarrass me. I want you to NEVER leave AJ in the same room with him! It's only our stupid blind luck that AJ hasn't given into Harm yet . . . but that'll change Harriet! Oh my god, I can feel it all crashing down! Did you save that conversation? How bad is it?

And, okay, I've got my blackberry sitting on top of my notebook and it looks like I'm writing in it, but you've just got to answer me this one question: is Harm staring at me? Because I can FEEL his eyes on me – or maybe my senses are just getting overworked or something. He's smiling an awful lot today, isn't he?

But of course, he has every right to. Pants . . . I mean JEAN! God, I wonder what happened in that clothing store that got him onto a bimbo like HER. I mean, all his OTHER girlfriends he's met at JAG!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: your son!**

First of all – any lethal contact that is to be met with my child will be done strictly by me. I brought him into this world and I can take him right back out. And the only hungry look in Harm's eyes right about now is for that French Onion soup he ordered – or a certain Marine colonel . . . ?

Sadly enough, no, I did not save that conversation and as for all his girlfriends meeting at JAG – I wouldn't worry about that. YOU met Harm in the Rose Garden! How romantic is that?

Harriet

P.S.: and Harm is staring right at you, Mac. I will not lie. And from the look on his face, he's liking what he's seeing if you know what I mean.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: your son!**

Harriet, the deaf, blind, and dumb would know what you mean so cut it out because Harm is neither deaf, blind, nor dumb and if he's looking at me right now he's going to know something's up! Not that he already doesn't because of your precious eldest!

And as for your little comment about hungry for French Onion soup and . . . you know – stay out of it! I'm warning you. Harm is over me! He has a girlfriend, he's got a great life here in London, and I KNEW there was a reason why Harm and I were together and it's his fairy tale ending. Yes, he's going to marry Jean and they'll live in London and have a couple very nice looking children and then it'll all work out really well for them whereas I will be living in an ugly apartment with way too many cats!

Harm is over me! . . . If he was ever on me! . . . That so did not sound right!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: your son!**

Ah, but honey, the question is no longer if he is over you. It's 'Are you over him?'

Now don't answer me immediately because our soup is here and Harm will definitely know something's up if you pass up your lunch for "writing in your notebook".

Harriet

* * *

**Same time,**

**Same Place,**

**Mac's POV**

I shove my blackberry into the front pocket of my purse, muttering heatedly to myself, though not so loud that Harriet (beside me) could hear. If Harriet could, then Bud (on my other side) would certainly be able to.

Now, I will not fail to admit to the fact that I am hungry as hell and this is EXCELLENT soup. I mean that in the best sense of the word. It's this great chicken corn chowder and it's got huge chunks of everything floating in a thick creamy sauce. It's DELICIOUS.

I look over at Harm who is staring at his soup and . . . oh my god, he's licking the spoon . . . don't worry, I'm alright. No, I'm not getting a little faint. I swear I'm not. He's dipping the spoon into the soup and bringing it up to his lips . . . oh, there I go again.

"Mac, are you alright?" Harriet looked over at me in concern from beside me. I do my very best to display a convincing smile.

"I'm FINE, Harriet."

Harm looks over at me in concern, resting his spoon slowly in his soup. Alright, there we go . . . much better now. All in all, lunch is really very wonderful. You simply have to admire the excellence of the English cuisine. No wonder Harm likes it so much here.

Well, we all finish our food, Harm – much to everyone's protest – pays the bill, and we're all heading off to the car when lighting strikes. Okay, not REAL lightening. The proverbial bolt of lightening. You know that phrase, what is the chance of lightening striking in the same place twice? Well, pretty damn good . . .

That little spawn of Satan (admittedly, a very adorable spawn of Satan) turns to Harm with the widest of blue eyes and goes, "Uncle Harm! Uncle Harm! I just remembered something!"

"Oh yeah?" Harm turns towards AJ, steering him towards the van. "What?"

"I know something else that Mommy and Aunt Mac were talking about!" My heart freezes to a stand still. _No . . . no more. God, if you are up there, why must you torment me? _"Mommy said something about yours and Aunt Mac's relationship and then that's when Aunt Mac started talking about leaps."

And it all came crashing down.

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: LEAPS**

I'm serious. He said every word. 'Mommy said something about yours and Aunt Mac's relationship and then that's when Aunt Mac started talking about leaps.'

LEAPS!

Well what am I supposed to do, Sturgis? Does Mac . . . do you think . . . leaps . . . help me out here, Buddy! Ever since AJ said that she's been avoiding my eye and she hasn't strung two words together in front of me.

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: LEAPS**

Okay, this is a CONFERENCE Harm. We are supposed to be listening to these speeches! How are you supposed to understand about budget cuts if you're raving about Mac all day? And before you fling yourself into a thorough act of arrogance around her, might I point out to you that your lead informant is a SEVEN year-old boy. Not only that, he is the offspring of Harriet Sims!

And second of all – what the hell does 'leaps' mean anyway? Since I highly doubt that you've TALKED about it with Mac – because that would be going against that charming natural personality of yours, I think you shouldn't jump to any conclusions.

Now look around at everyone ELSE in this room! No one else is e-mailing people on their blackberries. Cut it out.

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: my life is over**

Oh my god, my life is over! Did you SEE Harm's expression when AJ said the relationship/leaps thing? Did you SEE it! It was a mix of horror, surprise, and amusement, Harriet! AMUSEMENT.

Oh I can just imagine what he's going to be telling Bud and Sturgis and the guys later. I'm so nervous my hands are sweating and making my fingers slip on these damned keys. What am I supposed to DO, Harriet? When I see him never mind my hands sweating I sweat all over! What if he asks about what happened at lunch? What am I supposed to say?

Oh, I don't have the courage to face him. Could you just tell Harm I've died or something and I can stick it out all week in my room (aren't those rooms gorgeous?)?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com) **

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: my life is over**

Alright, stop panicking. AJ has not done THAT much damage. I mean, yes, he's opened the gates for a potentially harmful flood (pardon the pun) but we still have the dam! Okay, not the best simile but never mind that. The important part is: you can still interact with Harm. Put today's lunch behind you! It'll all be FINE.

Now stop sweating and look a little professional. The Admiral was looking your way three minutes ago and you looked completely out of sorts. And for God's sake don't sweat near me.

Harriet

P.S: and I highly doubt that Captain Harmon Rabb of the US Navy is sitting in a budget cutting seminar chatting it up with Bud and Sturgis about you.

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: This Lunch**

Alright Gentlemen,

Advice! What am I supposed to do about the . . . you know? And Bud, you were there at lunch when AJ spilled the beans about the whole leaping thing. Convince Sturgis that this is a Level 1 case!

And is it just my imagination or is Mac emailing someone on her blackberry?

Harm

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

Sir, may I remind you that the source of your information is my seven year old son? And on the same case, what he said made no sense, relationship and leaps. Harriet and Mac spend an awful lot of time IMing and emailing each other. It would have been a miracle if AJ read one of their conversations and DIDN'T get all turned and twisted around.

Bud

P.S: what does the Level 1 rank mean again?

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

That may be true, Bud – but did you SEE Mac's face when he said it? It was a mixture of shock, horror, and embarrassment! My marine never gets embarrassed! No, I think AJ hit the nail right on the head on this one. She hasn't said two words to me since . . . well, lunch.

Harm

P.S: Level 1 – highest priority. We all ban together to help the person in need . . . god, have I been that out of it lately?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

From two senior Naval officers I expected better from you! We are supposed to be LISTENING to this seminar, not chatting it up about our wives or girlfriends or women that we wish were our girlfriends (you know who you are).

And Harm, listen to these facts. I want you to LISTEN (it comes in one ear and STAYS there). Young seven year old AJ Roberts told you that his mother and Mac talk about you, and said something about a relationship and leaps. That is unfathomable nonsense! We can't make head or tail of it! What are 'leaps' supposed to mean, anyway?

And Harm, if you love Mac even in the littlest bit, you will NOT hang this over her head because she will hurt you, my friend. Mark my words she will do you great bodily harm. If you're that interested in her feelings, ask her out to dinner.

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

Alright, I am clearing things up! As you happen to know Sturgis I DO have a girlfriend. Her name is Jean – no, not Pants or whatever the hell you called her. Second of all, what did you mean by that love comment in the message? And I am not asking her out to dinner! I'll make a ruddy fool of myself!

Harm

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

Now, to clarify some things, Sir – you do seem to care an AWFUL lot about Colonel Mackenzie. I mean, not that we don't (Sturgis and I). She's our friend and we care for her like friends do, but you do seem to be very . . . uh, PERSONALLY interested in her.

Not that you're in Love with her or anything. I mean, you do have a girlfriend and all. And I'd never suggest that you'd do anything to compromise your relationship with . . . Jean. But you've got to look at it from a bystander's perspective. You and the Colonel seem awfully close.

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

I second the motion.

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

Look, you guys don't know what you're TALKING about! Mac and I are . . . yes, we're friends. Good friends, even. Maybe best friends – but I am not . . . how did you put it, Bud? PERSONALLY interested in her. I mean she's . . . well . . . yes, she's obviously got . . . well, she's got an attractive personality.

And friends are close! I do have a girlfriend, but I can still keep close female friends and – I don't know why I'm defending myself to you!

Harm

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

You quite sure her personality is the only thing you find attractive?

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

That's none of your business.

Harm

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

I think it would be a lot easier on us all if you just asked her out.

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

I second the motion.

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: This Lunch**

Oh shut up, second-motion-man. Mac and I are just FRIENDS. I don't see why I have to constantly defend this fact! And if I want to take Mac out to dinner then I will and until then I kindly request that you KEEP YOUR MOUTHES SHUT!

Harm

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Harm**

Cranky isn't he?

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harm**

I don't think he slept well last night.

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harm**

And we don't wonder who he was dreaming about.

Sturgis

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Dinner**

Hey,

So – um, do you want to have dinner with me tonight? That is, if you don't have any other plans? I know a great place where we could go.

Harm

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: say yes!**

Well, what are you waiting for? Say yes, yes, YES!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: say yes!**

How did you . . . STOP READING OVER MY SHOULDER.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: say yes!**

Not the point. Say yes, say yes, say yes!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: say yes!**

If you don't stop looking over my shoulder I'm switching seats.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: say yes!**

Just say yes. You know you want to.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: say yes!**

Keep nagging me and I won't.

Mac

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: dinner**

Sure – where do you want me to meet you?

Mac

* * *

**A/N: Yay, my favorite part of the chapter. Poll time! Ok, so where do you think Harm should take her for 'dinner'? If you remember where he takes her, vote for that. It'll make me feel like I'm doing something right. If you don't remember or just don't know, vote anyway for where you think he should take her. I never finished this story so I still might write your idea in. **


	10. Trident Titans of London

**A/N: I'm really happy how we're speeding along here. In no time we'll be all caught up and I can finally write some new chapters. **

**Note: the following is an IM conversation. **

**Trident Titans of London**

**mutheruv4:** alright, what are you wearing?

**Mac'n'cheese:** for God's sake Harriet, he's going to be here any minute now. I only met him less then twelve hours ago and he now must think I'm a blackberry-obsessed freak due to you!

**mutheruv4:** I could hardly consider that my fault seeing as YOU were the one that started e-ing me when we were at lunch and . . . okay, I started the one in the car. But you started the Pants conversation!

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet he will be here any minute now! Stop it!

**mutheruv4:** well what are you wearing?

**Mac'n'cheese:** Jeans and a t-shirt.

**mutheruv4:** (sighs) you exasperate me.

**Mac'n'cheese:** He told me nothing formal after we exited the conference. And this is . . . well, not formal.

**mutheruv4:** which jeans?

**Mac'n'cheese:** for god's sake, Harriet, have you photographed my closet or something?

**mutheruv4:** I helped you unpack, that's good enough.

**Mac'n'cheese:** my really . . . dark ones. I don't know how to describe them! And my maroon colored t-shirt.

**mutheruv4:** Not the one with 'Def Leppard' stamped across the middle?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I'll have you know that Def Leppard is an _extremely _good band.

**mutheruv4:** Does Harm like them?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I . . . don't know.

**mutheruv4:** Then you should lose the t-shirt.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Oh, cut it out. This is NOT a date.

**mutheruv4:** Let's see - a man and woman going to dinner together with no work purposes whatsoever. Hmm . . . let's see. Bud!

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet, do not call –

**mutheruv4:** hi, ma'am

**Mac'n'cheese:** Bud?

**mutheruv4:** yes

**Mac'n'cheese:** um . . .

**mutheruv4:** oh, okay, Harriet just filled me in on the situation. I would say it's most probably a date.

**Mac'n'cheese:** thank you, Bud

**mutheruv4:** but considering the fact that Captain Rabb also has a girlfriend . . . owwsl;af - hi, it's me again. Bud just doesn't know when to stop talking.

**Mac'n'cheese:** what did you do to him?

**mutheruv4:** he's all right.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet, what did you DO to him?

**mutheruv4:** nothing . . . he'll be all right - won't you sweetie? . . . yes, he says he'll be fine.

**Mac'n'cheese:** You threw him off the chair didn't you?

**mutheruv4:** How violent do you think I am, by the way?

**Mac'n'cheese:** Violent enough to - oh, he's here

**mutheruv4:** across the lobby?

**Mac'n'cheese:** yeah . . . I've . . . got to go . . .

**mutheruv4:** what's he wearing?

**Mac'n'cheese:** bye, Harriet.

**mutheruv4:** no wait - don't g . . .

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off. **

**mutheruv4: **go. Hmph. Okay, Bud, let's see your eye. It can't be all that swollen . . .

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: DINNER!**

Okay, it's officially two in the morning. My kids are passed out on the beds. Bud has a . . . little bit of a sore eye but he'll be fine. He didn't end up putting the crib together at all last night because of his "hurt eye" (do not look at me like that). So he's got Nikki and Mitchell in bed with him - yes, I've got Jimmy and AJ, but don't worry, they're out like lights.

Anyway - more IMPORTANTLY - your date! Honestly, you HAVE to have come back by now! And if you haven't . . . well, details for the morning I guess. Come on, girl, full narration! I want to know EVERYTHING.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Alright - details? Full narration? Well be prepared to sit in front of your computer screen for a LONG time, my friend. Here's how it all began . . .

I saw him walking across the lobby. He was wearing fitting black jeans and a marine green t-shirt that took on his chest well, if you know what I mean. He smiled at me, I smiled at him, and he complimented me on my t-shirt. Apparently he doesn't mind the rhythmic screaming of Def Leppard. God bless him.

Well, you'll never guess where he took me, Harriet. And believe me, we totally blended in . . . the State Carnival was in the park that day. Really gigantic. I mean, it there were lights EVERYWHERE. Flashes of orange, and red, and green, and blue, and every color you could THINK OF soared through the blackened night sky. It was brilliant beyond brilliant. Well, as promised, first we went to eat dinner - me, two hot dogs and a bag of popcorn. Harm - two corn dogs and taking handfuls of popcorn out of my bag when he thought I wasn't looking.

We took a tour through the bumper cars (we would have gotten into individual ones to smash each other but there was a REALLY long line and if we didn't get into one, one of us was going to have to wait an extra turn). So we both crammed into one small little blue vehicle. Now, I can remember being a little kid and going in the bumper cars with my friends, equally as small as me. And I can remember even being a teenager and hopping into one of those cars with a date or something. But bumper cars are NOT meant for two full-grown adults. At least, the ones in London aren't.

We're sitting there, Harm in the driver's seat, me right next to him. The cars only have one belt that's meant to go across the entire seat so we're practically bound together on the little plastic seating.

"Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?" I asked him before we had started off. Everyone else was still getting into their cars. "This is no corvette."

"Don't trust me, Marine?" Harm had joked from beside me, the carnival lights illuminating an excited look upon his face. "Just sit back in your seat. Let the big bad squid do his job."

And I was about to retort, I really was, when suddenly we lurched forward at an alarming speed. The ride had begun. Harm steered sharply before we hit the wall, crashing full throttle into this small purple car that held two teenagers barely fourteen. And I would have felt bad, I really would have - because the girl in the car looked so scared - if the boy, who had been driving, had not reversed and rammed into US. It was getting personal.

Harm swerved around, our car making a screeching sound. We get rammed into by the side by a cherry red car. We're getting beaten badly. A white card drives into our rear and the whole vehicle jolts. I'm slammed into Harm's side, and he groans as he tucks me under one arm and steers around to avoid a yellow one darting right at us.

"Okay, this is NOT working!" I cried and flipping my arm out, I undid the bumper car belt. "Move over, Flyboy!"

"But Mac this –" Harm begins but I'm already moving up and over into his seat. Harm gives me a startled look but as obedient as he is to orders, he moves over. And I am JUST in my seat, Harriet. I mean just an inch away from sitting down when CRASH.

That little purple car with the two teenagers in it RAMS into our sides and what do you know? We're not buckled. I fly sideways and crash onto Harm's lap. Yes, that's right, I was in his LAP. His arms entangle mine to keep me from actually falling OUT of the car. And all I can think about is THE STEERING WHEEL. My hands fly forward and grasp the wheel, spinning our car into the mess of other vehicles. My eyes scan the crowd for the little purple car and then I see it. Off to the left corner. I lurch forward, we shoot at a speed so alarming, my hair is flying back. I can see their car, paused right in front of the wall. We're closing, closing, closing . . . and then . . . they move.

We ram into the wall head first. Harm lurches forward with me on his lap, but he wraps one arm around my waist and the other my back to keep me from falling. I grab onto anything I can get my hands on. Incidentally, of course, I get mine around Harm's neck. I bring him down with me. We fall onto the floor of the bumper car, his body on top of mine but doing his best not to crush me. We roll until we hit the sides of the seat. And by that time, the music has stopped. The ride is over.

I lay on the floor of the bumper car, my back pressed up against the metal and Harm trying to disentangle his body from mine. "Well that was fun," I said, my breath broken and heavy.

"Oh yeah," Harm replied, pulling me up. "We've got to do that again some time."

I smile very dramatically. "I'd like that."

We're just walking out of the bumper car ring when the two teenagers in the purple car come running up to us. And for the first time I get a good look at their faces. The boy seems exceptionally tall for his age, with light brown hair and green eyes. The girl is slightly smaller with a curvaceously thin build and darker hair and eyes. They both look somewhat distressed.

"Are you okay?" the girl asks, her voice uncommonly throaty for a girl that age.

"We saw you go flying off of the seat," the boy elaborates, turning to look more at Harm while the girl looks at me.

Harm looks rather amused by the youngsters' distress. "We're fine. Thanks." He rubs his shoulder gingerly. "I guess we are getting a little old for the bumper cars."

"Nah, you were great," the girl retorts, her dark eyes keen. "By the way, I'm Sasha. And this is Hanson," she motioned to the boy beside her. "Anyways, we've got to go." She looks around kind of anxiously. "This is our first date and . . . well, we can't stay out too late."

Harm grins. "Ours too. Have fun."

He loops one arm around my shoulder in a jovial way as we head the opposite direction of the teenagers'. "They're a couple of cute kids."

I smile at him. "I don't know if you could really call them kids any more." I look after their retreating forms. "Their first date . . ." and then I remember what Harm said. "So is this officially considered a date, flyboy?"

"Hey, I couldn't let them show us up," Harm replies roughly, steering me towards the Ferris Wheel. "Apologizing for getting us hurt . . . how young do they think they are? No wait, how old do they think WE are? They're never too old to learn another lesson."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied rolling my eyes. "Now come on, Old Man, take me on the Ferris Wheel."

"Ah, but where's the excitement on that?" he asked as we joined the line.

"You get to see the whole carnival from the top seat," I replied grinning. The next round we took our seats in the little chairs, the bar keeping us from falling. The sky was pitch black by then, Harriet. I suppose it was . . . maybe nine o'clock or so. The ride started moving and I let a little shriek of excitement escape me. I really like Ferris Wheels.

Harm grinned at me as we neared the top. "Get ready to look down, Ninja Girl. We only get one more look from the top after this."

"Ready and waiting," I smiled from beside him. "Bring it on."

And then . . . we stopped. I mean it. The ride seriously stopped, with our seat right at the top. And I looked down and down and down and down and the ground looked very far away. I stole a glance at Harm. "It's not supposed to do this."

"Ease up a little," Harm replied, his voice reassuring. "I bet they just do this to get a little excitement in the crowd."

Several minutes passed. We did not move an inch. "Okay, this is getting a little tiring," I muttered, shifting positions a little and making our seat wobble.

"Don't do that, Mac," Harm's voice comes out so rushed that it sounds more like 'dundoatmac'. His hands clench onto the metal bar that holds us in our seats. I look at him with my eyebrow cocked up to the sky.

"What?" I asked innocently. "No wobbling?" And I shake our seat for all it's worth. You know how sick I get when I go up in airplanes, especially tomcats? He looks about just as bad.

One he's certain that I've stopped shaking the seat, he unclenches his hands from the bar and reach into his jeans pocket and pulls out a pack of gum. He throws one wad into his mouth. It seems as though chewing on something help him with the anxiety of the scenario. Hmm, maybe I should try that next time. He sees me watching him. "Do you want one?"

"Sure," I replied, and pulled out a stick of Trident Cherry flavored gum from his packet and commence chewing. We sit like that for a while, just chewing in a horse-like manner when I stretch the gum on the tip of my tongue and blow a bubble, popping it, and withdrawing the gum back into my mouth for more chewing. Harm watches me out of those ocean blue eyes of his and then blows a bubble too.

All I can say is, it was pretty big.

I blow another one, carefully stretching the sticky substance while inflating it with air. My bubble is very big. Bigger than Harm's. Harm grins at me and chews some more. But this time he's too quick while blowing the bubble. It's small and it pops quickly. By this time we're both racing to blow bubbles. What can I say - we were the Trident Titans of London. Doesn't that name sound grand?

Harm fumbles with the pack of Trident, throwing another stick into my hand and a wad in his mouth. We're both chewing furiously. I blow long and hard - the bubble grows massive before it splits apart and onto the tip of my nose. Harm chuckles, also blowing his. It reaches almost just below his eyes before it pops. "Mine's biggest."

If any words were meant to induce challenge, it was those. I blow long hard and furiously, wasting all my breath into one enormous bubble. It pops sending bright pink gum all over my face. I slurp it back into my mouth, chewing again. "Not any more."

And the minutes we were up there on the highest most chair of the Ferris Wheel seem to melt away. We're laughing and blowing and chewing and then – of course, it has to happen. Something ALWAYS has to happen. I'm blowing a GIGANTIC bubble. And I mean it. It's like the size of a whole freaking melon so I turn towards Harm to show him – seeing as I can't very well say anything.

And I can remember it all in slow motion. I turn around to show him, my bubble swelling furiously on my mouth and at that exact moment - that _precise _moment, Harm turns with a gigantic bubble on his mouth. And what do you know Harriet? Our bubbles collide and burst apart - but the gum hanging from both our mouths has now formed one massive wad.

And we're on either end.

So for a second their we're just sitting and staring at the large gum wad that is connecting both our mouths. And I guess Harm decides to play it coy. He start reeling in the gum wad. Of course, gum – being gum – does not require me to tag along, it just simply stretches and stretches and stretches until it becomes as thin as a noodle. But I got curious. What would happen if I DID go along with it?

Harm's reeling in our gigantic gum string and I can feel myself going with the end. His mouth was SOOO close, Harriet. So close. Our lips were literally an inch away. And then, what do you know? THAT'S when the ride decides to move.

The motion is so abrupt, so utterly surprising I'm thrown. ONTO HIS LAP AGAIN. I crash into his chest, our gum flies. And where does it land? Come on, give a guess, Harriet. Just give one. Into the worst place possible. IT'S IN OUR HAIR.

So I don't realize I've got gigantic sticky pink streaks dangling from my dark locks, all I can see is it clamping down on his hair. So though I'm off balance, leaning on his lap, that stupid metal bar pressing painfully into my side, my hands finger their way through his hair trying to peel the gum from his scalp while his hands go through mine, pulling out long wads of gum.

No matter how "romantic" you might think it was, Harriet, that is definitely NOT something I wish to experience again. So, by the time we get down from the Ferris Wheel, our hair is covered in Trident's Super Pack of Cherry gum, I'm halfway in his lap, and everyone is staring at us. STARING. So what starts to happen, Harriet? Think about it – what could make this night any more "perfect" than it already is? It starts to RAIN.

Everyone's running around the park looking for shelter. Harm grabs my hand and pulls me across the street, dodging cars on our way over. We run under the little umbrella sheltering of a nearby café. What can I say, Harriet? We're DRENCHED. From the soles of my runners to the top of my gum covered head I am soaked. And Harm's no better.

"Come on," Harm said quietly, holding open the door of the café. "Let's wait the rain out."

I follow him in and we sit at the corner table. We're getting some strange looks from everyone else. Let's just say - I can imagine why. And it doesn't bother me one bit. We both have just ordered coffees when the most wonderful song breaks out over the radio in the café. I don't know if you've ever heard it Harriet, but it's called '100 Years' by Five For Fighting. And the lyrics are simply beautiful. I've loved the song for a long time and when it started playing in the café, I began to sing the lyrics softly and under my breath.

I look at Harm and I see a very strange emotion burning its way into his glass blue eyes. An emotion I can't seem to place.

And suddenly Harm starts humming. I can't imagine why. My voice is so soft I doubt anyone but Harm could hear it but he almost seems to be . . . enjoying the song. I didn't think anyone but I liked it. It's so slow and lazy but completely and beautifully original.

"Care to dance?" Harm offers me a hand, hopping off his chair at the same time. To tell you I'm stunned would be the understatement of the century. I take his hand, smiling at him in a very sweet way.

"Sure."

Harm leads me almost awkwardly onto the floor of the café. I don't know whether it's meant to be danced on, but it feels perfectly natural when Harm puts his hand on my waist and enclosing my other hand with his. Perfectly natural.

"Five for Fighting, right?" Harm asked me after a moment as we swayed a little, proximity very close. I nodded in response, my eyes shut in the way that blocked me out from the world . . . except for Harm.

"Those two kids we met at the carnival remind you of anyone?" Harm murmured softly. "Hanson and Sasha?"

I grinned at him brightly. "I can think of a few people who they're like."

Alright, I've got to ask. Did Five for Fighting actually set out onto the street and pick up Harm and my lives or something when they wrote these lyrics? Are they supposed to bury themselves so deep under your skin that they play over and over in your mind, professing their intentions to you? Because I can see Harm and my reflections in this song – and it's scaring me.

I look up at Harm to find him staring at me, his blue eyes almost undeservingly considerate. I'm lost in the sway of the motion and the fluency of the music. We're standing there dancing in a café that has probably never been danced in, our clothes wet and sticking to our bodies, and the less said about our hair the better. But we're perfectly content.

I don't know why I feel like crying. And I did, Harriet. I really felt like I was going to burst into tears. Maybe because I haven't had a magical moment like this in . . . a year. A year – when he left. A year. The realization of the moment is profound and breaking, and I don't care what you say, Harriet. I don't care that we're wet and covered in gum and everyone's staring at us. I don't.

And as the music dies away we both break apart. I admit, perhaps a little reluctantly, but we definitely separated. Harm looks outside the window at the street and the billowing wind, the night sky enveloping it all with its star-studded cape. "The rain's lessened. But shall we run for it anyway?"

It was a mere drizzle but running in the rain is FUN. Especially to two people who already look like they've been drowned anyway. We ran all the way to the steps of the hotel and seeing as this hotel IS a rather classy place, let's just say we weren't welcomed with open arms by the doormen. We stood under the shelter of the first floor balcony, both our jeans drenched and my t-shirt beginning to stick to my body, as the ran drizzled around us.

"So, I'll . . . see you . . . tomorrow," Harm says slowly, fumbling with his words as if there was something else he wanted to tell me but either couldn't find the words or the heart.

"Yeah," I replied easily, smiling at him and admiring the way his hair – a tad longer than the last time I saw it – curled slightly when wet. It almost hid the hideous pink gum. "See you tomorrow for breakfast?"

Harm grins at me, opening the door slowly to the hotel room. "You can count on it."

We stand there at the doorway then, just waiting for the other to say something when the doorman clears his throat very loudly. I suppose we were getting water all over the velvet rug.

"Well, bye then," Harm says quickly and then moves away from the door, turning to run through the rain and down the street. I smiled and turned away, tracking more water on the rug as I walked to the elevator. And now I sit here, having just showered (yes, more water – I did need to get that gum out of my hair, after all) in a terrycloth robe emailing you.

Because you just NEEDED all the details. So how did I do?

Mac

P.S.: you can go ahead and email me back but I will be out like a log until my alarm clock goes off tomorrow morning so see ya.

* * *

**A/N: The song they were dancing to is called 100 Years by Five For Fighting. It's one of my favorite songs and incidentally was the song used in the series finale of JAG (but I liked it waaaaay before that). Anyways . . . POLL TIME! How do you think this date went? Mishaps and all. **


	11. The Meaning of War

**A/N: Wow, eleventh chapter. That means . . . we're halfway through from where I stopped. Mwahahahaha. Wow, i'm evilly laughing a lot these days. Kinda hard on the throat. **

**The Meaning of War**

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

OH MY GOD! I'm so happy for you! You're in love with him, aren't you?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

I am in no such thing.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Mac, that email PROVES there's chemistry between the two of you!

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

It proves nothing. Now this is a seminar that we're SUPPOSED to be listening to! Jesus, Harriet, could you be any more obvious? Sturgis has been staring at you from across the room ever since you started e-ing me. And if Sturgis can see it, I bet you everyone else can too.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Jeez, chill will you, girl? It doesn't matter if Sturgis is staring at me or the whole freaking Navy. You and Harm!

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Harriet! Drop it!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Merely pointing out the obvious. But I'll drop it if you want me to. No sense in things being rushed. Now after this seminar, why don't you and I go get a bight to eat? If you have no seminars this afternoon, then we can go shopping!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

You think it's right to just ditch the guys? I mean, I know THEY won't want to come shopping. And what are you going to do about the kids? Dump them all on Bud? . . . Not that I'm not loving the idea.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Aw, come on, Mac. Bud is Bud and it's good for him to spend a little quality time with the kids – just as good as it is for me to spend a little without them. And, besides, I need to spend a little quality time with my best friend. And we're in LONDON, Mac! LONDON! Let's hit the shopping mall as fast as we can! Come on, we'll have lunch in that café that Harm showed us yesterday and then max out our credit cards.

Live a little,

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

Alright, you've convinced me. But one thing – we HAVE to stop in one of those funky brand t-shirt stands. You know, where they have all those stupid and rude sayings. Yeah, we HAVE to get one of those. It wouldn't be a vacation without one.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: DINNER!**

You didn't shop much as a child, did you?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com), Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: AJ Chegwidden (admiral(dot)aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: e-mailing**

Hello Ladies,

Now, if you would kindly store away your supposedly work-related blackberries back into your bags perhaps you stand a chance of listening to this seminar rather than chatting through it. Now please, as senior officers, I expect more from you.

Admiral AJ Chegwidden

* * *

**To: AJ Chegwidden (admiral(dot)aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: e-mailing**

Yes sir.

* * *

**To: AJ Chegwidden (admiral(dot)aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: e-mailing**

Yes, sir.

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Busted**

Did you see the look on both Harriet and Mac's face just now? Red as tomatoes. I think their cover just got blown.

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Busted**

Slow down there, sci-fi boy. Busted by who?

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Busted**

The Admiral! Look! The Admiral's got HIS blackberry out and the girls are putting THEIRS away. Is this one backwards world or what? Jeez, they need to learn to be discrete.

Bud

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: AJ Chegwidden (admiral(dot)aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: SENIOR OFFICERS**

Now Gentlemen,

As I just reminded the ladies, you are SENIOR OFFICERS. Put away those damned things and pay attention! I am no longer your CO but I'm sure General Cresswell would be very interested in the procedures of his staff and their supposedly crucial communication between each other in what is clearly NOT a social activity!

Roberts, I expected better of you. Rabb . . . I thought I stamped this out of you when I left.

Admiral AJ Chegwidden

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Busted**

(cough, cough) – you were saying?

Harm

* * *

**To: General Gordon Creswell (general(dot)gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: AJ Chegwidden (admiral(dot)aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

Aww, we did good by them, didn't we?

AJ

* * *

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: where are you?**

Okay, I lost you around the make up section. Where are you? I'm looking at jean jackets at the moment but you're no where in sight. This store is HUGE! I mean, look – it's the middle of the day and it's jam packed! Can you even begin to imagine what this would be like on a Saturday afternoon? But, God, these clothes are soooo gorgeous!

Aren't we just the luckiest that Bud agreed to take the kids? 'Cause as soon as you said shopping, I thought AJ would never let go of your leg. Lucky for Bud that Harm jumped in with the possibility of visiting the science museum. All I can say, Harriet, is that you'll have four terrifically smart kids by the time we get back. Between Bud and Harm in a SCIENCE museum, you'll have a set of young Einsteins on your hands.

Now where are you? I need you tell me if this jacket looks good on me.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: where are you?**

Oh, believe me – Bud has TRIED to take the kids to the Science Museum back home many times. It's only when their Uncle Harm suggests it that they get interested. LOL, I bet Bud's pissed. Shame we didn't stick around and get to find out. And please don't joke with me on the Einstein subject, the last thing I need is four children asking more questions than they ALREADY do. AJ's going to be a philosopher I tell you. Either that or a psychologist, answering questions only with questions themselves.

Now as for my location, I'm in the shoe section. Dammit, I can't even SEE the jean jacket rack. Why don't we just . . . meet by customer service! That's it – do you see the big bold lettered sign at the front that says CUSTOMER SERVICE? You can't miss it – I'll meet you there (trying on the cutest pair of boots).

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: where are you?**

I see it . . . I see it . . . okay, I see you! And you're standing right next to . . . oh no . . .

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: sorry**

I've said I'm sorry like a million times already! I had no idea this was the store Jean was working at, honestly! And do you think that if I had I would have ever intentionally MET her? I like her about as much as you do! Maybe even less . . .

And it was soooo not my fault that she offered to show us around the store. You agreed, remember? AND she can get us DISCOUNTS. Look on the bright side, that jean jacket looks awesome on you.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: sorry**

WHAT does Harm see in her? I mean HONESTLY. She's about as deep as the profound lyrics of a Britney Spears song. I mean, COME ON. She's chatting about leotards! I have never heard so many brand names thrown at me at once. She's a freaking life-size Barbie!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: sorry**

Aw, I've missed spending time with you, Mac . . . a little shopping, a little gossiping, and good old fashioned bitching. I've tried with Bud but it just doesn't work the same way.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: sorry**

So glad to be of service . . . oh my god, she just asked her manager for the afternoon off! Please say no, please say no, please say no . . . damn. Okay, I am prepared to faint. And then you have to wheel me off back to the hotel, okay? Pretty please? You know I'd do the same for you.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: sorry**

Mac, you're looking at this all the wrong way! We pressed Harm for info on Jean and we might as well have been talking to a wall for all that we got. But Pants is so chatty! We'll get the whole scoop in like three seconds flat. The more info you have, the more you can use against her. Now come on, let's go out to lunch. I have a feeling that as soon as she loosens those jaws up for food, they'll spew out anything.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: sorry**

Beautiful pictures you're painting in my mind. Truly. Now stop e-ing me. Pants is looking suspicious.

Mac

* * *

**Same Time**

**China Garden Restaurant**

**Mac's POV**

Jean giggled loudly and shrilly, snapping her chopsticks together on her plate. I catch some disturbing glances that are being sent our way but do my best to ignore them. How could I let Harriet talk me into this? This woman was absolutely REPULSIVE and I did not just mean that because she was dating Harm . . . I didn't.

She was loud, and girly, and all . . . ugh. I mean, how can Harm even LIKE that. I mean, I can't tolerate it for one LUNCH period and Harm's been with her for . . . how long?

"So how long have you and Harm been together?" Harriet asked, leaning over slightly.

Ah, Harriet . . . it's times like these I really believe in telepathic messages. I turn to Jean with a stare (read: glare) that can only be compared to that of a human x-ray. I'm really beginning to appreciate all that the Admiral's taught me at my time at JAG.

"Um, let's see," Jean screws up her face in though, mentally calculating. "I guess . . . maybe . . . seven months? Or eight?"

"What month did you meet in?" I helped slyly. Harriet shot me a look that very clearly said 'If Harm was here, he would put a stop to this'. So what if I am taking discrete shots at her intelligence level? It's not like SHE'S smart enough to know it.

"Well, anyways – is it serious?" Harriet butted in before Jean could answer. This WAS the important question after all. Harriet barely seemed to be able to contain her excitement. I, on the other hand, having realized that I was currently lunching with Harm's present girlfriend, and the fact that she drives me nuts, was much less enthusiastic.

Jean looked thoughtful. "Um . . . yes. I think so."

"You mean you haven't actually _spoken _about it?" Harriet asks in surprise, stretching out her words. I shoot her a glare but she waves it off. Besides, I guess I want to know where this is going too.

"Oh, well, you know Harm," Jean rambled on, diving into her carton of pork something-or-other, "he's not much of a talker. All about the action."

I gagged on my noodles. HARM not much of a talker? ACTION? I have known the man for the last ten freaking years and all we've ever DONE was talked! No . . . no, she can't know him at all. She must be confusing herself with some other Harm . . . _oh ya, because it's such a common name_, my traitorous brain says. And I don't even WANT to know what "action" she is referring too. This conversation is OVER.

"Well, we best be going," I said quickly, as we neared the end of our meals. "We promised the guys we'd be back early to help them take care of the kids." I'm lying through my teeth.

"Oh, yes, well then – I suppose I'll see you soon," Jean stood up with us as Harriet and I scrambled to get our shopping bags. "Oh, and Mac, I almost forgot to ask you – how did your night with Harm go last night?"

Now, there were many ways to take on this question: head first, being honest and truthful and admitting to the fact that it was, well . . . in our usual fashion, let's just say – a complete and total surprise but not necessarily an unwanted one. Or . . . I could tell some wildly romantic tale that would have Jean both drooling and snarling in jealousy. But of course, it's really no choice.

"It was . . . good," I said, failing dismally at any chance for a REAL story. "It was fun. He took me to the carnival."

"That's nice." Jean's smiling, damn her. I went out with her BOYFRIEND last night, and said I had a GOOD time and she's not taking me seriously at all! Does she not think that I'm a potential threat to her? Look at me! I'm . . . oh god, please tell me I at least LOOK like I have a shot with him . . .

And then – just like that – she says the absolute WORST thing possible. "Well, it's nice to see that you and Harm can still be friendly, considering what you've gone through."

Ahem, WHAT have we gone through? How would SHE know? Harm didn't tell her about our . . . past, did he? Dammit, did he? I mean, **I **don't go around telling people about Harm and I. I mean, I don't think even Harriet knows the whole thing, and dammit – she's the person I've told the most to. I can't believe Harm would just fly across the world and tell the first girl he meets about us!

The smile on my face is sickeningly sweet – to the point of a grimace. "And, um, what is it that we've gone through, per say?"

I try to sound nice but I do a piss poor job of pulling it off. Luckily Jean is not the brightest and does not pick up on that vibe.

"You know . . ." Jean rolls her eyes like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Separating and then going half a world away! It's so great that you can still talk to each other like you do!"

And she flashes me a fake smile. And it was then that I realized something that I should have long before. Something that I DID realize but did not take seriously. She saw me as no threat. And this could only mean one thing . . .

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Pants**

This means war.

Mac

* * *

**A/N: POLL TIME! Alright, scale of 1 - 10. How much do you all hate Pants right now?**


	12. Pursuing Pants

**A/N: Whoa, that was a lot of reviews. Mwahahahaha (that was strictly for Shron, who seems to just love my evil laugh)**

**Pursuing Pants**

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Okay, honey, you KNOW I don't want to discourage you, but you've got the devil's gleam in your eye and you're kind of freaking me out here . . .

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Oh, it's on, Harriet. She doesn't think I'm competition? She has no idea what's going to hit her.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Mac, stop pounding the bags with your fist . . . my new shoes are in there . . .

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Every moment she's with Harm – I'LL BE THERE. Every move she makes – I'LL BE FOLLOWING. Every breath she takes – I'LL BE WATCHING HER. Every where she goes . . . everything she does . . . she will be HAUNTED.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Okay, now you're juststeeling lyrics from 'Every Breath You Take' by the Police, and somewhere out there I'm sure Sting's not appreciating its context. Prioritize! What's more important – having Harm, or shoving it to Pants?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Mac . . .

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Mac!

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Pants**

Look, could you just cut it? We'll talk about this when we go to my room. But first I want to give the kids their presents and you can drop off your stuff at the room. And then we can get rid of Jean . . .

Mac

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: last night**

Hey,

Okay – so what happened last night? Harriet said you and Mac went out on a date . . . and did you get a hair cut?

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Bud, you're sitting right next to me – we're trying to assemble Mitchell and Nikki's crib – why are you emailing me on the blackberry?

Harm

P.S: yes, I did get a hair cut.

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Harm – AJ is sitting on the couch right in front of us. Anything he hears goes in his ears and out his mouth when he's in front of his mother. And anything that goes in Harriet's ears comes out her mouth in front of Mac. Please, think logically! THIS is how my family works!

Now, back on subject. What happened last night? As Harriet would say, "details!"

Bud

P.S: could you pass me that wooden rail – 4D? I think it goes in the socket that I'm working with. Damn these stupid directions – couldn't they have written them out instead of drawn indecipherable pictures?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

First of all – I think it's sad that you're scared of your own son. AJ is seven, okay? I repeat – SEVEN. Now can you imagine what life is going to be like a couple of years down the road when all four of them are past that age – do you know how much tip-toeing you're going to have to do? My advice – don't return the blackberry at the end of our visit. Oh yeah, and second piece of advice – no more kids. They'll all band together and commit mutinous acts.

Now, as of last night . . . let's just say it was eventful, okay?

Harm

P.S: nah, that would have been too easy. They gotta make us sweat it out . . . which by the way, really is happening. How come it's so hot in your room, Bud?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Please do not joke about them all growing up. I can barely manage Mitchell and Nikki together, and they've only just begun walking. Think about how old I'm going to be when they're twelve, up and running! I'm going to be too exhausted from following AJ and Jimmy around . . . what have I gotten myself into?

And what do you mean by eventful? What happened? Where did you take her? Did anything . . . happen? Harriet said she didn't come in until late (yes, Harriet waited up). And now they've gone shopping . . . she's going to max out all the credit cards.

Bud

P.S: look, it's just a plainly humid day, okay? If you're so hot, just take off your shirt. The women aren't here.

**

* * *

**

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Ah, quit complaining old man. I'm older than you – and yet you have the perfect family – a wonderful wife, four great kids. Look at it this way, three more and you can be the Von Trap family minus the Nazis . . . though that's not quite as exciting. But, hey, you get to sing and dance.

As for last night – I took her to the carnival, okay? We ate some hot dogs (in my case, corn dogs) went on the bumper cars, Ferris wheel, stopped in at a café and had coffee, and it was just nice, okay? NOTHING HAPPENED. I mean . . . I have Jean, okay? I just took Mac out on a friendly . . . outing. I mean, come on, I haven't seen her in years. And what mall did they say they were shopping at again?

Harm

P.S: so you don't mind me visually scarring your baby girl by taking off my shirt?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

You're right . . . Von Trap family minus the Nazis doesn't sound quite as appealing . . . but hey, if we triple our amount right now, we can star in Cheaper by the Dozen (did I tell you that's recently become AJ's favorite movie?)

Okay – so let me get this straight. You had dinner at the fair, went on the bumper cars and the Ferris wheel, had a little coffee and THAT'S why Mac came home at two a.m.? Sorry Harm, not biting . . . and why did you cut your hair?

Bud

P.S: she's not paying attention anyway. She's watching Sesame Street.

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

I thought The Lion King was AJ's favorite movie. At least – it was when I was there. Anyway, look – we got stuck on the stupid Ferris wheel (top seat) and we were there for at least a half hour, okay? And then we were in the café for about the same time so . . . yeah, the minutes started piling. And plus, we went nuts on the bumper cars.

Harm

P.S: okay fine, I'll take off my shirt. But if Harriet finds out, she'll probably yell at you.

P.P.S: I got gum in my hair, okay? Besides, it's not THAT much shorter.

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Well, come on, Harm – you hadn't seen AJ in a year and being a growing boy his preferences do tend to change . . . and that includes favorite movies. But that doesn't mean you don't know him . . . it's just hard when you're on a different continent.

Bud

P.S: nah, Harriet will probably swoon, and then get mad later just to cover it up.

P.P.S: how did you get gum in your hair?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

I just don't see why he has to change so MUCH. I mean, I was there with him the day he was BORN. I was in the same room. And I've always known what his favorite movies were, his favorite books, his favorite super hero. Can't he just pause all that changing until we see each other again? And Nikki and Mitchell! This is my first time seeing them, and they ARE adorable, Bud, but they're going to grow up not knowing me . . . and I'm their godfather.

Yes, I know I'm overreacting to things . . . I honestly don't mean to. Now – what time are the women coming back? They've been gone all afternoon . . . and where is it they went shopping again?

Harm

P.S: what do you mean she will SWOON?

P.P.S: it's a long story but suffice to know that it happened on the Ferris wheel, okay?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Harm, you'll be around to watch them grow up. They're not going anywhere any time soon. And plus, you'll have your own kids some day – you're not that old, you know. Nikki and Mitchell aren't even a year old yet. You have forever.

And I don't know about the shopping thing . . . Mac and Harriet should be back by now – I wonder what's holding them up . . ? I can't remember what shopping mall they went to, but Harriet said it was just around the corner from here. Why?

Bud

P.S: never mind

P.P.S: so wait, MAC got gum in your hair? How did you guys manage that? . . . or do I not want to know?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

They went to the mall around the corner! Blue Tune? Oh no . . . do Harriet and Mac like gigantic department stores?

Harm

P.S: no seriously, I want to know about the swooning thing.

P.P.S: look, we had to entertain ourselves SOME way. We were up there for half an hour!

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: the room**

Okay, we've dumped Pants, we're in the lobby of the hotel room, and now I want you to wipe that devilish smile off your face. You KNOW that the minute Harm sees you he's going to know something's up and what are you going to say, "I've just got it out for your girlfriend."

I mean, COME ON. If you're going to snag Harm you've got to be sneaky and much less obvious, if you get my drift. Now come on, let's go up to my room, dump the bags, and get back to yours before dinner.

Chop chop,

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

Snag him in a much less obvious way . . . ? Elaborate. Look, Harriet, I need a plan! Pants has probably got Harm on a collar and leash. I need something that will . . . you know, draw him in! Dammit, I don't care if he gets AMNESIA as long as he forgets about her! I will WIN THIS WAR.

Mac

P.S: are we meeting Harm for dinner?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Yeah, Harriet likes department stores . . . I hate to break it to you Harm but a LOT of women like department stores . . . Blue Tune? Yeah, that sounds like the name of the mall. I knew it was Blue something. Again, why?

Bud

P.S: but seriously, how did the gum wind up in your HAIR?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Jean works at that mall! I mean, she works at Customer Services in one of the departments stores in the mall! You don't think . . . they could have run into her, do you? And that's why they're so late?

Harm

P.S: dammit, this crib just does NOT want to go together!

P.P.S: I'LL NEVER TELL!

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

Okay, I want you to CALM DOWN. We are going to go into Bud's and my room, drop off our shopping bags, hitch it back to your room and pick out something down right sexy for you to wear, meet Harm for dinner (I'm pretty sure we're meeting with him – if not, don't bother) but before all that – we are going to map out an intricate plan. I snagged Bud, didn't I? I have EXPERIENCE.

Just trust me – Harm will be wearing a very different set of pants by the time we're done.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

Okay, Harriet, well you and your EXPERIENCE better come through! How much longer do we have? Like, a week and a half or something. Ten days, Harriet! Ten DAYS! Ten months . . . maybe. Ten years . . . we could probably do it. But ten days! And I don't have anything sexy.

Mac

P.S: You did NOT just compare me to Pants!

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

Oh come on, what are the chances that out of everyone in a gigantic department store, not to mention in a gigantic MALL, that Mac and Harriet happen to meet Jean? Odds are pretty slim.

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

You never know . . . Mac's never failed to surprise me.

Harm

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

I just can't talk to you when you're like this. Here, I need to check something out by the front desk but take my room key and I'll meet you in the room in like five minutes. You can give the kids their presents in the mean time, okay?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

You DID compare me to Pants, didn't you? That's why you've given me this . . . sympathy key. Well, for your information, I will go into that room! Do not think this is my way of forgiving you for the Pants comment . . . I am merely forgetting for the moment . . . okay, I'm opening the door (and carrying your bags – dammit, Harriet, how many pairs of shoes did you buy?) and there's Bud and the kids and . . . wow . . .

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

Wow what? Wow what? I something wrong with the kids? Is it Bud? WOW WHAT? Okay, I'm coming up there . . .

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

You'd better . . . this is a sight you do not want to miss . . . believe me.

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

I'm gonna get us a few beers, okay? This crib work is awfully hard especially on my prosthesis . . . whew it's hot in here - the Colonel!

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: last night**

What about the Col – oh . . .

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

He just caught me staring at him! Help, what do I do – I sense an awkward moment coming on . . .

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

Who caught u staring what . . .? Never mind, I'm at the door and . . . oh . . . well, . . . that's a mighty perdy look from where I'm standing . . . Harm with no shirt! (whistles very loudly).

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

Harriet, you're married! . . . And have four children!

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

That doesn't stop me from looking.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: the room**

That much is obvious. But honestly, with your husband AND kids in the room!

Mac

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: them**

Alright, this is just getting sad now. They can't even stop e-mailing each other when they enter the ROOM. We don't even get a hi!

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: them**

Oh, go put on a shirt. That's the only reason why they're emailing each other.

Bud

* * *

**A/N: YEYAH! POLE TIME! Okay, let's play another rating game. How hot would that room be if Harm was shirtless in it? 1 - 10 people, (1 being subarctic temperatures, 10 being the Sahara Desert in the middle of August)**


	13. Vukowhat

**A/N: Yaaaaay, i've been waiting for eleven chapters to do this. It's a sport I made up, which I'm pretty sure you'll all enjoy. It's called Vuko-bashing. Feel free to play any time you want. :D**

**Vukowhat**

**1832**

**Golden Gate Restaurant**

**Harm's POV**

I sighed slightly, leaning back on my chair. I cast a questioning look at Bud that no doubt read 'Where the hell are they?' Not that I was anxious to see Mac or anything. Nothing of the sort. I mean, sure, the last time I saw her – half an hour ago – she looked incredible. But that's at par. Mac could make a brown paper bag look good if she had the mind to put one on. I shifted almost uncomfortably in my seat. Thinking of Mac like that always had me squirming.

"Are you okay, sir?" Bud looks at me with a flicker of concern notable upon his face.

I sigh heavily. "Fine, Bud." I balance Jimmy on one knee and Nikki on the other. Both are asleep. "It's just that, sometimes – you know – you have to wonder if . . ."

"Harmy!"

I'm cut off in mid-sentence by what I can only describe as an unearthly screech of an abbreviated form of my name which I wish to rot in hell. I turn around in my chair so swiftly, Jimmy almost falls off my knee. I catch him by the arm and push him up at the same time Jean strides through the restaurant, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Hey, honey!" she exclaims, bending down and kissing my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye, I note the fact that Bud's cheeks seem to be rather aflame and that pretty much everyone else in the restaurant is staring at us. "Oh my gosh, and you brought the _babies."_

She scoops Mitchell out of his carriage, promptly beginning to bounce the once sleeping baby boy up in the air.

"You shouldn't do that," AJ said rather matter-a-fact-ly from his seat at the corner of the table.

"Oh, don't be silly," Jean waves off the seven-year-old's warning airily. "He loves playing with his Aunt Jean."

AJ cocks up an eyebrow and I resist the urge to laugh. AJ Roberts is without a doubt his mother's son. Jean pulls Mitch up into the air, her hands resting under his arm pits and begins to coo. Yes, I mean it, COO. She sounds like a freaking _bird_. Now, if everyone in the restaurant wasn't staring already, they definitely are now.

"Jean, sweetie," I try to sound as nice as I possibly can as I contain the humiliation that begs to seep into my voice. "Why don't you put Mitchell down? He's not looking too playful at the moment."

And Mitch certainly wasn't. His cheeks were getting all flushed and his face screwed up. I'll be the first to admit that I know next to nothing about babies but when someone pulls that face at ANY age, it surely can't be good. He's a ticking time bomb. We've only got a few seconds left. "Jean, really, I don't think you should –"

"Oh, Harm, don't be silly," Jean retorts airily. "Babies love me."

Mitchell's cheeks turn tomato red. His chin quivers on the point of dropping.

"Jean, please don't –"

"_Harm, _I know what I'm –"

"Hey, you heard the man," Mac's voice comes out of nowhere as she and Harriet suddenly appear from the corner of the restaurant. And I suppose at some point in time a moderately intelligent word while travel across my brain but at the moment the only thing that's circulating is '_wowweeee'. _Mac stands there in a knee-length black skirt and a form fitting black tank-top. It's nothing fancy but dammit I'm hooked. She's let her hair out of its usual military bun and has it done up at the top in clips and a pony tail. Her lips are lined with a very dark shade of lipstick that for some reason make her eyes stand out more than they usually do. Those beautiful almond shaped hues of brown . . .

"Leave the kid alone." My mind snaps back to the present as I watch Mac pull Mitchell out of Jean's grasp. At some point I must have stood up, my arm outstretched in front of me and my mouth open to issue a warning. But it's already too late.

KABOOM!

I can only watch as Mitchell's mouth flies open and this ungodly horrendous liquid spurts out of the opening. It soars through the air, everyone's head simultaneously turns upwards. And then . . . it falls . . .

Jean screeches. I bite my lower lip. AJ clamps his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. Jimmy hasn't nearly as much self-restraint as his older brother and erupts into a fit of silent giggles. Harriet's mouth hangs open in a horrified 'O'. I can only describe the scene as absolutely one hundred percent chaotic. Mac just stands there, holding a puke-soaked Mitchell, who follows his eruption by a small baby burp. And as for Mac, it's safe to say that the clothes and hair I was rather impolitely gaping over is covered in thick yellow almost booger-colored liquid that drips from the top of her head and all the way down. Time seems to hang in the air and then –

"Oh, my gosh, I am _so sorry," _Jean stretches, reaching for a paper towel and futilely trying to mop up the mess but only managing to spread the vomit all over Mac's once perfectly brown hair. Harriet gets up from the table and promptly removes Mitch from Mac's hands. Mac still just stands there as though frozen.

"Come on, ma'am," Harriet prods limply, taking Mac's arm (and grimacing as she did so). "Let's get you cleaned up." She turned to Bud and snapped authoritatively, "take care of your son."

And as Mac followed by her entourage which consisted of Harriet and Renee with their many MANY napkins trailed through the restaurant on their way to the bathroom, hundreds of pairs of eyes followed them, many people attempting to stifle laughs but not succeeding. As soon as they disappeared through the door marked 'Women's Room' Bud got up from his seat, lifting Mitch up with him. "I'm going to . . ." he just gestured towards the bathroom door. I nodded and he departed.

I heaved a sigh and looked at the three Roberts children, who glanced almost innocently back at me. Jimmy was still laughing and now that Mac was gone AJ had officially deemed it appropriate to join his little brother. I looked down at them almost sternly. "Alright, boys, you've had your laugh."

AJ and Jimmy grin very cutely at me and I roll my eyes, casting another long glance at the restroom door. I wonder what Mac's thinking right now . . .

* * *

**Same time**

**Same Place**

**Mac's POV**

_Oh. My. Freaking. God. _Each word I punctuate with a slap to my face to make sure this is real. I am in the ladies' bathroom, my beautiful new clothes and my took-an-hour-to-do hair covered in baby puke. Nope, it did not take a bullet to break me, or a bomb, or a murderous husband, it took one year old Mitchell Roberts. That's right. He can barely walk, has yet to require a vocabulary, and yet he can send a hard core marine (aka, me) running for the hills. Who is this spawn of Satan and where did he come from?

"Oh, ma'am, your shirt's a mess," Harriet practically whimpers, throwing out another wad of puke-soaked paper towels.

"That's not the only thing," Jean adds on, oblivious to the daggered stares Harriet and I keep shooting her way.

"Ugh!" I cry frustrated, peeling off a wad of paper towel that had been placed on my shoulder to absorb the pool of puke. "What am I going to do? I'm not coming out of here looking like this!"

I feel like a total girl. A helpless, pathetic, _girl. _One that's on the verge of tears because her hair is messed up and clothes dirtied. The idea totally revolted me and yet at the same time I took comfort in the fact from here on out, this evening could not possibly get any worse. Of course, needless to say I will eventually find out how very wrong I am, but just humor me, okay?

"Do you want me to run back to the hotel and bring you a change of clothes?" Harriet asked piteously as it became very obvious that we could not salvage the clothes that I was wearing. Not only was the black stained with random splotches of sickening yellow throw-up, but it was all beginning to smell.

"Oh, Harriet, I couldn't ask you to do that," I said sighing, leaning against the bathroom sink. "It'll be hell trying to find a cab at this time of night. And besides, it'll take you too long."

"But what are YOU going to wear then?" Harriet pointed out, trailing off rather desperately. And oh, she HAD taken a long time getting me ready. She'd done my hair, picked out my outfit, and we had taken _forever. _I mean that in every sense of the word. There had been blow-drying, curling, make-up, and priming, so much so that it had made my head spin.

"I have no clue," I whined, sliding down so I was sitting on the floor. And then it happened. One slip of the tongue, one moment where I was caught completely off guard by senses. A moment where I forgot Jean was in the room. "What's he gonna say?"

Instantly Jean's all over me with questions. "Ooh, who's HE?" What can I say? I'm stricken by my own stupidity. She clicked her tongue knowingly. "Dressed to impress, huh? Well, if I'd known this was a _guy _emergency I would have brought this out right away!"

"Brought what out right away?" I asked almost faintly as Jean dug into her large paper bag that she'd entered the restaurant with.

"Let's see, you and I are about the same size, right, Mac?" Jean asked, without looking at me. I suppressed the urge to snort in indignation.

"Yeah, about," I said in a round about sort of way. From behind Jean, Harriet raised her eybrow. I shrugged. Wearing ANYTHING was better than my clothes at the moment. However, as soon as she pulled out what she had intended out of her bag, I once again stand corrected.

"Isn't it just _darling_?" Jean asked me, pulling out this, though very pretty, very VERY small dress. It was a dark burgundy color, and indeed, really was very pretty. Jean's words played back in my mind like a never ending ticker tape. _Dressed to impress. _"Here, try it on!" Jean insisted, pushing the dress into my hands. "You're a little taller than me." I freaking dwarfed her. "So it might be a little short, but it's nice." She winked at me, "Especially if you want to impress a guy."

And it was then the guilt started to set in. Pants – I mean, _Jean – _was an idiot, by any means. She was a complete and utter ditz, but she was nice. And maybe that was what Harm saw in her. Thoughts swarmed through my head as I entered one of the stalls and slipped on the dress. And it was then I realized how much shorter I REALLY was than Jean.

"It doesn't fit," I said immediately, beginning to take off the dress but both Harriet and Jean began to hammer on the door.

"It's going to be a _little small," _Jean stretched, with what I can imagine was a roll of the eyes. "But I'm sure it'll be fine. Come on out, Mac. Remember, this IS my job."

I sighed reluctantly and pushed the door open. Harriet and Jean just stared at me. And stared. And stared. _And stared._

"Ma'am, that's . . ." Harriet trails, looking at me almost impressively.

_Horrible? Terrible? Ugly? Grotesque? Revolting? Never-should-be-worn-again-go-hide-your-face-in-a-closet kind of appalling? _I walk forward very delicately and shift myself in front of the mirror. And what I see absolutely stuns me. I look _good. _No, not _good – _GOOD. The dress hugs my form perfectly and though I must admit, it is cut short – VERY short, it has that almost . . . sexy appeal to it. That kind of dress that you could walk down the street simply strutting, throwing back your hair like all those women on the shampoo commercials do.

"You'll knock 'em dead," Jean grins as she opens up the bathroom door and promptly exits.

I sigh, staring at myself in the mirror again. Jean WAS nice. Nicer than nice . . . perhaps it only was ignorance, she didn't consider me a threat so she gives me a sexy dress and allows me to flaunt myself in front of her boyfriend. Or maybe she KNOWS I'm no threat so therefore does not give a care. Or maybe she really is stupid enough to think it's NOT her boyfriend. But either way, Jean was being charitable, and how could I abuse that kind of kindness by going behind her back and stealing her boyfriend? Stealing Harm?

"You're not having second thoughts, are you, ma'am?" Harriet asks me sort of worriedly. She had done wonderful work repairing my hair after her youngest son had promptly blown her latest work to shambles.

I sighed reluctantly. There was no point in denying it. "Yes, I am . . . she's so _nice, _Harriet. Once we got to know her."

"I know," Harriet replied quietly. "It almost makes you feel bad."

"Almost?" I snapped back, my eyebrow raised. "That's easy enough for you to say, you're not the one who's trying to seduce her boyfriend."

"Mac, you've got to remained _focused, _here," Harriet snaps. "Forget about Jean. Can you imagine going back to San Diego and returning to life WITHOUT Harm? Believe it or not, Mac, you HAVE gotten used to having him around. I've seen you these past few days. You were all weird in San Diego because he wasn't there, and now that he is – it's like you've got your roll back. Forget about consequences for once, Mac. Do what's in your heart!"

And with that riling motivational speech, Harriet promptly threw me out of the bathroom.

* * *

**Five Minutes Earlier**

**Same Place**

**Harm's POV**

"How's Mac?" I asked the second Jean sat down in the chair.

"She's fine," Jean replied shortly, flashing her dazzling blue eyes up at me adoringly. "I had a spare dress in my bag so that's what she's wearing now. There's some guy that she likes that she's trying to impress so hopefully she'll get good use out of it," Jean grins, much to my horror, "if you know what I mean."

The deaf blind and dumb could know what she meant. Inside I feel myself boiling. Mac trying to impress another guy? Who the hell does she need to impress? Dammit, Sarah Mackenzie was impressive enough without needing to show herself in what is undoubtedly one of Jean's latest skimpy dresses. And who is this . . . _guy? _Could she have met someone THAT fast? I mean, does she just travel to some . . . country and go eenie meenie miney mo with the first bunch of guys she sees? Doesn't she know that there are dangerous people out there? I mean, she could pick some sort of . . . transvestite killer for all she knows! Who knows what's on his mind? Maybe all he wants to do is get her in bed, or what if he wants to harm her? Has she done DNA checks? Facial recognition scans? Entered his name in the FBI data base? And if she hasn't – I WILL!

"Hey, we're back," Harriet says softly, jogging me out of my murderous reverie. I snap my head in Harriet's direction and find myself almost instantly drowned by the vision of the goddess standing next to her. Out of all the dresses that Jean could have ever given Mac, that was the perfect one. Now, being a man, I know next to nothing about dresses, so the only semi-adequate description I can give you was that if I was turned into a dog right now, at this very moment, I would be slobbering.

"Sorry about keeping you all waiting," Mac apologizes, sitting down across from me giving me a chance to let my eyes wander very innocently over her body. I mean, after all, she WAS sitting right in front of me. Nothing wrong in staring forward.

"So, Mac," Jean piped up, not letting the table rest for a second of silence. "Who's the lucky guy?"

From the corner of my eye, I can see Mac's cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink as I feel something boil within me, my internal green eyed monster rearing its ugly head once more.

"Oh, it's . . ." Mac seems to be stuttering a little, catching Harriet's eye an awful lot. "It's no one you'd know, Jean."

"Nonsense," Jean waved off airily, seemingly missing the message of topic reluctance that Mac was trying to convey. "If he's in London, I know him."

"Well," Mac tries again, fumbling with her words, "he's not really . . . you know, IN London, he's just . . ." she's gesturing a lot with her hands "in London?" she suggested weekly.

"Name," Jean barks demandingly, her eyes shining in excitement. "I know everyone in London."

"But he's not really IN London," Mac persists. "He's . . . well, he travels a lot!" This seems to be a burst of inspiration. "Yeah, he travels A LOT."

"Is he in the NAVY?" Jean asks innocently, as if ever many that travels for his job must be a sailor.

Mac's on a roll here. "Yeah, yeah he's in the Navy. He's just here for a little while . . . yup, he's been all over."

"But what's his _name?" _Jean persists once more. "You never know, maybe Harm knows him."

Mac spits out the water that she was drinking. "Oh, well, I don't know about that. Harm may know him by name, maybe but . . . well, you can never really –"

"What's his name?" I half-asked/half-shouted, conveniently taking over the role of my girlfriend. My eyes read into Mac's, desperately searching for some clue as to what she's trying to hide.

"He's . . . uh . . ." Mac trails off uncertainly, her eyes flying across the room. And then she lights up, "He's Vukovic!"

HE'S VUKOWHAT! I choke on the water I was attempting to drink, slapping myself forcefully on the back. No, not Vukovic. She's freaking kidding me. I flash her an alarmed look but her eyes are trained on the corner of the restaurant where I see none other than Mr. Mac's-all-over-me striding towards us in a rather stiff formal suit.

"Colonel, Captain, Commander, Lieutenant," Vukovic greets each with the nod of his head. I can only stare at him murderously. THIS is the subject of Mac's affection? This . . . THING? "I trust you're having a pleasant evening."

Pleasant? PLEASANT! Pleasant until you were here. Pleasant until you existed. Pleasant until you condemned this earth with your sliminess and female-attracting Brad Pitt-y hair. PLEASANT MY ASS. "It's fine," I replied stiffly.

Vukovic nods respectfully (read: mockingly of our superior command) and then turns to Mac. "Colonel, you're certainly dressed up for this evening." I see his eyes roam undetectably up and Mac's body. Undetectable to anyone but me. I am the MASTER of checking Mac out without anyone realizing. I RULE that domain, buddy! You can't just . . . come on in because Mac has a little crush on you. Nope, you have to make it through ME first.

I open my mouth to say something but Vukovic beats me to the punch. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Ms . . .?" Vukovic trails, extending a hand to Jean who very girlishly colored at his question.

"Harris," Jean answered, flashing a brilliantly flirtatious smile towards the Lieutenant. "Jean Harris. And you must be . . ." Her face screws up in thought. "Vuckovick?"

Vukovic clears his throat politely, though his face flashes with obvious annoyance. "Vukovic."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jean says smiling at him. "But are you here alone?"

"Um, at the present, yes," Vukovic replied formally, now speaking just to Jean. "But I was hoping perhaps to join some table or the other."

Well, newsflash, buddy. THIS IS NOT A BAR! This is a respectable restaurant where snotty nosed little boys do not run around trying to sidle up to random women at tables! In case your tiny mind was unable to comprehend vocabulary of such high caliber, translation: GO AWAY.

"Well, come sit with us!" Jean invites with a welcoming throw of her hand. And out of the corner of my eye I can see Mac wince, though however faintly. Is it even remotely possible that she feels a tiny fraction of the absolute vulgarity that is my feelings towards Vukovic? But how could she? She LIKES the man!

Vukovic moves to sit between Bud and I over at the men's side of the table but Jean practically drags him away and shoves him into a chair beside. Oh no, not happening, pal . . . I squeeze a chair in between Vukovic and Mac, literally shoving everyone else at the table one seat over. Somewhere Mitchell squeals because of the movement but who cares? The kid's caused enough trouble for one day. Let HIM be on the receiving side.

"Harm, what are you doing?" Jean whispered fervently, as Vukovic turned around to call the waiter for more drinks. "Let him and Mac sit together."

"Jean, honey, I just want to get to know the lieutenant first," I said, smiling sickeningly sweet. Beside me I feel Mac bristle as she cocks her eyebrow up. I ignore her unspoken question. This is for the better. I don't want to have some . . . lieutenant, getting close to my Marine, not if I haven't checked him out first. Besides, she's his Commanding Officer! This is WRONG. Why can't she see it this way? Why can't ANYONE see it this way? Harriet hasn't said boo about it! Harriet! That can only mean one thing. SHE KNOWS. She's known before Mac slipped it at the table and if she hasn't argued, that means she supports her. And why hasn't Bud said anything? At least tried to talk Harriet out of agreeing with Mac about it! WHY AM I SO ALONE!

"So, Lieutenant . . ." I trail, as another round of drinks are passed to our table and we finish ordering our meals. "Tell me, what are your ambitions in life?"

From somewhere beside me I feel Mac roll her eyes. I don't need to SEE her do it; I know Mac's body language too well for that. Well, roll your eyes all you want, Marine. I'm doing this for your sake. We'll see who has the last laugh if he DOES turn out to be that transvestite killer that the London police have been talking about.

"Well, I do plan on staying with the JAG Corps," Vukovic said rather dully. I mean, of course he did. He WAS in the JAG Corps. I mean, what kind of idiot would switch careers when walking upon a promising path? Well, sure, there was . . . me. But Vukovic's nothing like me! In no aspect on this PLANET is Vukovic ANYTHING like ME! "I plan on becoming, you know, the JAG in a few years."

Somewhere inside me a deep chuckle emerges. "_The _JAG, huh?"

Vukovic shifts a little in his seat, almost uncomfortably. Yes, squirm, Slime Boy, squirm. "Yes, sir. That's correct."

"Well, it'll take more than a few years," I ploughed on, ignoring the stares of 'drop the conversation' that I was getting from people all around the table. "It'll take many years, lots of determination, hard work, and unflawed talent." I look Vukovic square in the eye. "And you think you've got what it takes?"

Vukovic reflects my gaze coolly. "No, sir." I blink. "I _know_ I have what it takes."

_Cocky arrogant little son of a_ . . . my thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of our food. I spend all dinner time brooding while others engage in typical supper-time conversation. Gossip over celebrities, the informal but semi-boring discussion over today's conference, a little bit of entertainment from the Roberts children as they add tidbits into the conversation, but all the while I just sit there _staring _at Vukovic – the man that crashed threw my life and blew it to pieces. Is that why Mac rejected my marriage proposal? DID SHE HAVE FEELINGS FOR VUKOVIC? The though sickens me right to the core.

"Well, that was a good meal," Bud said warmly, having not said much in the conversation. He balances Nikki on his lap as she slowly but steadily begins to drift off to sleep. My eyes linger on her for a little while. How small and adorable she is. Her bright blue eyes and straw blonde hair. She looks a lot like Harriet but yet retains detectable Bud-like features. She's almost identical to Mitchell, who favors his mother just a little more. I hope I have some like that. Kids, I mean. Sure, they're mischievous, and tiring, and cause general mayhem, but at the end of the day when you turn out the lights – they're good to have around.

Somewhere in the background, music starts playing as the tables are all cleared away and the floor opens up for dancing. They do this every Friday night. It's kind of nice to watch, sometimes. It's nothing fancy or anything. Just a bunch of people having a little good old fashioned fun. I brought Jean here on our first date. We danced, laughed, had good fun. But Jean's the farthest thing from my mind at the moment.

"Care to dance, Colonel?" Vukovic's eyes flash with ulterior-motivated emotion. I move forward to intervene but I catch a stern glare from Jean sitting three seats away and I hesitate slightly at the same time Mac says,

"Um, maybe some other time, Lieutenant. I'm not really in a dancing mood."

To say I'm relieved is an understatement.

"Hey, Harm, why don't we dance?" I look over at Jean who grins up at me innocently, batting those baby blues of hers. "Yes, this is good music. Let's dance."

And without a word of consent on my part she drags me onto the dance floor. Wrapping one arm around my shoulder and the other ties into my hand we sway almost effortlessly into the motion. I glance down at Jean but she's not even LOOKING at me, she's staring off at the table where Mac and Vukovic are talking as well as Harriet and Bud.

"Jean, why are we –" I begin but Jean cuts me off with a 'shh!'

"Look, if we're dancing then maybe Vukovic and Mac will too," Jean's whisper is insistent. For a split second I'm hurt that we're not dancing because she actually _wants _to dance with me, but almost immediately that emotion is replaced by one of strong intervention. Over my dead _body, _will Mac and Vukovic amount to anything. It's not that, you know . . . like I'm _jealous _or something preposterous like that. No . . . I'm just looking out for . . . my friend.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Same Place**

**Mac's POV**

Look at him standing there, dancing with her. God, he looks good. I mean, come on – why did god put me on this earth? Was it only to taunt me? To throw me around just for his own amusement? All the men that are interested in me turn out to be murderous jerks, and all the ones – ahem, _one – _that I'm interested in happens to be the greatest, nicest, hottest guy ever – and of course he has a girlfriend. I mean, it's gotten to the point where irony is non-existent. Nope, somewhere up there someone's having a lot of fun playing with my life. And when I meet him when I'm old and wrinkled and my trip to the heavens has been long past it's due date, I'll punch him right between the eyes.

"They look like they're having fun," Vukovic said bluntly, taking a long sip of his drink. My gaze flickers back to Vukovic for a split second before returning to Harm. I hadn't realized I'd been so blatantly staring.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied shortly. Harm was a topic that I definitely did NOT want to get into with Vukovic.

"You've known the Captain for a long time?" Vukovic asked as I reluctantly pulled my stare away from Harm. Harriet and Bud had just gotten up to dance leaving Vukovic alone with the Roberts children, three of which were already asleep.

"Uh, yeah, a while," I said with an attempted non-commentarial voice but of course, Vukovic could not pick up at such subliminal hints. He cocks his eyebrow up. "Ten years," I elaborated.

Vukovic whistles low under his breath. "Wow, I had no idea you were that ol –"

My head snaps in his direction, my glare as hot and pointed as a laser beam. Vukovic falters. My head turns back to the dance floor, as Jean pulls Harm into an exceptionally close embrace while dancing. Somewhere down at the pit of my stomach, I'm internally heaving.

"Ma'am, I know you don't want to dance but . . ." Vukovic trails, extending me a hand, "would you do me the pleasure of just one?"

For once in his short little lifetime, he actually sounds sincere. My mouth opens to decline but just at that particular moment I see Jean shift to her tippy-toes and kiss Harm on the lips. And something inside me – that little twig built of all my ethics – just snaps.

"Sure," I said with such force I surprised myself. Clearly I surprised Vukovic too. I guess he's just used to shooting for women that are clearly out of his league. I grab his arm and in a breech of every moral rule that I stand by, I DANCE with Vukovic. Yes, Lieutenant Greg Vukovic, the one that I sit all day on my ass complaining about to anyone who will listen. THAT Vukovic. I look over at Harm and am suddenly pleased to find that he and Jean are no longer dancing. In fact, Jean's no where in sight and Harm's sitting back at the table with AJ, Jimmy, and the twins. Maybe I'll go join him . . .

"Well, it's been nice, Lieutenant," I said, as the song ended, pulling away from him but suddenly he grabs me closer, pulling my arms to his.

"Oh, come on, ma'am. One more song." His voice is suddenly both low and husky, his dark eyes falling upon me almost dangerously. And suddenly I feel something shoot through my body. A pang of . . . fear?

"_No, thank you_, Lieutenant," I said, my voice suddenly hard. I pulled away from him but he just grabbed onto my wrist, twisting me to face him. _"Lieutenant," _I snapped.

"One more dance," he whispered. His voice wasd now thick, urgent, and with both arms he pulled me to him with surprising strength. "Then I'll let you go."

"Lieutenant!" I felt my left arm suddenly soar up, myopen hand flyingout to hit him with all my Marine brute force but someone beats me to the punch. Quite literally.

Vukovic falters as he stumbles backwards, Harm's fist having connected heavily with his jaw. But the only thing I see is Harm standing there, his hair slightly out of place, and his blue eyes shining with an animalistic ferocity. One arm snakes around my waist as he pulls me closer, glaring at Vukovic whose cheeks are steadily turning pink.

"Harm," I whispered incessantly, staring at him though our eyes would not connect. "Harm, just leave him alone. He's learned his lesson." Harm's glare would not be removed. "Come on, Harm. Just leave him." By this time I'm literally dragging him to follow me. "Harm, he's an idiot, just leave it be."

"How could you let him hold you like that?" Harm suddenly snaps as soon as we exited the room and into the bathroom hallway. "Does Okinawa mean nothing to you?"

It takes me a moment to realize what's he's talking about and by then anger has seeped into my voice. "Harm, nothing was going to happen between me and Vukovic! Nothing ever WILL happen between the two of us. He's a jerk!"

"Then how come you like him?" Harm hollers back, scaring off some poor old lady who was about to enter the bathroom but suddenly thought better of it. "How come you're all . . ." he waves with his hands at the dress, "_you know. _No man on this EARTH could resist you, Mac. Why Vukovic!"

My jaw just simply drops. _No man on this earth could resist you . . . _does that mean what I think it means? Please, GOD, let it mean what I think it means. What I hope it means. _He has a girlfriend, _that nasty little voice at the back of my mind says. _He just doesn't want you with Vukovic. _But why? _Because Vukovic's scum. _Valid point.

"Look, Mac, you could easily have anyone you want," Harm said, his sky blue eyes falling compassionately upon my chocolate ones. "I just don't see why you'd want to waste those kinds of feelings on . . ." He can't even says his name. "Ugh!"

"Harm," I said softly, trying to shut him up. "I'm not in love with Vukovic."

"I mean, come on, Mac," Harm says, as though deaf to what I just said. "He's _junior _to you. If you had to find an officer, couldn't you find one the same rank as you at least? Or . . ." He stops in mid-sentence. "Did you say you're not in love with Vukovic?"

"Yes," I said quickly, wishing desperately for him to finish the other sentence. "Or what?" I prod, my heart suddenly frozen in mid-beat.

"You're not?" Harm asked, deaf to my question.

"No," I said, rolling my eyes. "Or what?"

Harm ignores my last comment. "Then why were you dancing with him?"

"Ugh, I don't _know, _Harm," I pressed, lying quickly. "Can we just forget about that for a moment?"

"But –"

"_Harm."_

Harm sighs reluctantly, grinning at me slightly. "But you don't love Vukovic."

"No, I don't," I replied confidently, staring once more into his eyes. We become quiet for a moment, and then –

"Hey, Mac, do you want to dance?"

It's possibly the simplest purest question he could have asked right then and there. I just grinned in response as we exited the bathroom hallway and walked onto the dance floor again. I put one hand on his shoulder as he places his on my waist, and we swayed almost effortlessly to the faint background music. You and Me by Lifehouse starts to play.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you," Harm said quietly as we danced quietly, the background music suddenly paling in comparison to the strength of his voice. "What do you think of Jean?"

I hesitate, my voice getting caught up in my throat. Dimly at the back of my mind, that nasty little voice says '_this is your chance. This is your one shot. Don't screw it up.' _But instead, the next words tumbling out of my mouth are, "I think she's nice, Harm."

"Really?" Harm's voice has never seemed so innocent of well-intentioned before. I'm suddenly overpoweringly struck by how soft his voice is and how bright his eyes are. Oh god, why does this have to happen to me _now?_

"Yeah, I replied softly, not meeting his eyes. "She's good for you."

The music's carrying us away. Harm exhales deeply, resting his head on my forehead. "What are we doing here, Mac?" he whispered softly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking up at him suddenly.

"I mean, we're not getting any younger," Harm said, his voice suddenly deep. "And, well, when you look at Harriet and Bud and their family and . . . it just suddenly hits you how much you're missing."

"I know," I whispered in return, turning to take a look at Bud and Harriet who had their oldest sons sleeping on their laps. I smiled sadly and turned back to Harm. "Hey, you'll have that one day."

"Maybe," Harm whispered faintly, his blue eyes taking on a rather foreign emotion. "Hopefully."

"Definitely," I rebutted. "Harm, you're going to be a wonderful father some day. And when that day comes, you'll never have another shadow of doubt."

Harm grinned. "Have I told you yet how glad I am to have you here?"he whispered, flashing me the infamous flyboy grin.

"I think you might have mentioned it once or twice," I smiled back, the world around us melting away.

The lyrics of the song hover in the air. They're deep

"Well, I really am," Harm whispered softly. "I'm so glad you came."

I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes but I don't let them through. _He's off limits. He's got a girlfriend. From here on out he's JUST your friend. _"Well, I'm really glad I came."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Same Place**

The Admiral leaned over at the counter, crossing his arms authoritatively over his chest. "We did pretty good with them, didn't we?" he asked, his nod motioning to Harm and Mac dancing in the center of the floor.

"Not too shabby," General Cresswell agreed, taking a long swig of beer. "You know, for a couple of old geezers like us."

The Admiral laughed heartily. "You know, I'm appreciative for the time I spent with them. But," he grinned, "I think I'm more appreciative of the fact that you've got the hard times to come."

The General's eyebrow rose, "the hard times?"

The Admiral nodded, motioning at Jean who stood silently in the corner, her dark blue eyes focused on Harm and Mac in their dance-related proximity, with an expression of shrewdness that only a distressed woman could posses. "Hard times."

* * *

**Five minutes later**

**Women's Bathroom**

**Mac's POV**

I turn off the tap and pull out a paper towel from the bin on the wall just as Jean walks in. "Hey," I greeted rather warmly. "Thanks so much for the dress. Honestly, you're a life saver. Um, I'll just head back to the hotel now and if we can meet up tomorrow then I'll give you back your dress."

I move to open the door but suddenly a very small angry blonde is blocking the doorway. Jean crosses her arms over her chest and juts out her hip. "I know what you're doing." Her eyes meet mine squarely. "And I'm not going to let you do it."

"Please, I have no idea what you're talking about," I said briskly, trying to push past her but inside I'm panicking. Suddenly this isn't the Jean that I thought I knew, the stupid ditzy pushover. No, it's like as if some monster has been unleashed with in her. She's . . . shrewder.

"That "man" you were trying to impress," Jean sneered sarcastically, using her fingers as quotations, "wouldn't happen to be my boyfriend, would it?"

"Jean, don't be silly," I stressed, turning away suddenly. _Come on, you can do this. You've lied before . . . hell, you used to make a career out of it. This is NO BIG DEAL. _"I told you, it's Vukovic."

"You mean Greg?" Jean asks, her eyebrow shooting up. Suddenly her voice that usually ranged between the high and the shrill was now low and . . . well, creepy. "Yeah, see – while you were dancing with Harm, me and Greg got to talking, and he thought it was _very _funny that you should be attracted to him considering the fact that you spend most of your days thoroughly despising each other." Jean's voice is cold and her eyes are narrow. "Or so the story goes."

"You told Vukovic I was _attracted to him!" _my voice is desperate and panicked.

"Oh, _no_," Jean drawls. "Now, that would be _mean. _Almost as mean as stealing someone's boyfriend." She glares coldly at me. "No, he just told me about the office, and about you." Her voice is suddenly chilling. "So take this as a warning. Lay off Harm," she pointed her finger at me, "and you won't get hurt."

"And I'm warning you," I replied, my temper rising, "don't mess with a marine."

Jean laughs shrilly. "Do you honestly think you can compete with me? Newsflash," she said coldly, her dark eyes boring into me like lasers, "men don't look at you twice. I mean, why would they?" she gestures at my body with her hands, "you can't even fill out a dress."

That very feminine part of my mind, the one that craves Godiva chocolates and luxurious bubble baths says, '_Oh, no, you didn't.' _"Excuse me?"

Jean gestures at my body. "You don't have an ass."

To say I'm thrown is an understatement. "At least I don't have a _fat _ass."

Weak comeback, I know, but you have to understand – I was fighting with _Pants. _She'll rebut anything I say. _But then again, _that nasty little voice reminded me. _You thought she was a complete ditz too . . ._

Jean walks up to me and I'm left to look into her cool dark eyes. "Try all you want, Mackenzie. Harm's mine."

And never have I heard more challenging or stimulating words.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: so you say you snagged bud**

Harriet, we are taking this full throttle. I don't care how much it costs, how painful it is, but Pants is going soooo down. She'll be dirty laundry by the time we're through with her. The kind that you sell for a nickel on the streets. You snagged Bud, you have _experience_. Meet me in my room at 0630.

We need a strategy.

Mac

* * *

**A/N: Jeezus, I'm running out of polls to come up with for you guys. Mwahahahahah (apparently the laugh's becoming some kind of signature for me, so now I feel obligated to include it in every chapter). Okay, here we go (keep in mind i'm suffering from lack of inspiration at the moment). While Harm and Mac were dancing I had 'You and Me' by Lifehouse playing. What song would you guys rather have play? Please Vote (AND if you like You and Me, vote for that. Makes me feel good. :D) . . . Whoa, lotta brackets. **


	14. Let 'Em Look

**A/N: Sorry, guys, I had a hard time finding which computer I stored this chapter in. That's why it took so long. **

**Let 'em Look**

**Mac'n'cheese:** Harriet, are you there?

**mutheruv4:** Mac, it's two in the morning – why are you online?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I can't sleep

**mutheruv4:** well boo for you, I'm tired.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Ah, Harriet, you know you can't sleep anyway. AJ snores too loudly.

**mutheruv4:** that doesn't stop everyone else from sleeping. Except for . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** John Number 3, I know

**mutheruv4:** well, anyways, you don't have an insomniac husband and four snoring, sleep-talking/walking children. How come you're up?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I can't get him out of my mind, Harriet! Every time I shut my eyes I see him dancing with her and it just makes me want to hurl like your son did ever so charmingly on me at dinner.

**mutheruv4:** Him as in . . . Harm?

**Mac'n'cheese:** No, I mean Vukovic . . . of course Harm!

**mutheruv4:** Mac, how much does it take to learn that talking about Vukovic that way is not a joke?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I think I learned my lesson last night, thank you very much.

**mutheruv4:** It was sooooooo romantic how Harm hit him.

**Mac'n'cheese:** Oh yes, Vukovic with a bloody nose – that's the picture I want on my Valentine's Day card.

**mutheruv4:** _Mac_

**Mac'n'cheese:** Look, never mind, Harriet. I'm sorry I woke you up. Go back to bed – we've got to be up early tomorrow anyway.

**mutheruv4:** Remind me why again?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I told you about Pants!

**mutheruv4:** oh, so we're back to calling her that again, are we? What happened to _'Harriet, that's terrible of you. Do you know how much trouble we would be in if Harm found out? Her name is Jean, not Pants!'_

**Mac'n'cheese:** well . . . things were different back then . . .

**mutheruv4:** how so?

**Mac'n'cheese:** I'd known the woman for less than an hour. It was common courtesy to be polite.

**mutheruv4: **and now?

**Mac'n'cheese:** she's going down.

**mutheruv4:** that's the spirit . . . oh, Mitchell's crying again and . . . he's waking Nikki up. Mac, do you mind doing me a tremendous favor?

**Mac'n'cheese:** sure, Harriet, no problem?

**mutheruv4:** Could I run Mitchell over? He can't sleep with AJ in the same room and he's waking up Nikki. Would you mind terribly? I'll come get him in the morning and if he starts acting up I'll come get him. It's just . . . none of us can get any sleep. And he'll be quieter where there's no snoring.

**Mac'n'cheese:** oh no, it's not a problem. Bring him over.

**mutheruv4:** Thanks, you're the best. I'll see you . . . tomorrow morning?

**Mac'n'cheese:** Yup, we gotta discuss tactics.

**mutheruv4:** okay, see you in a few seconds, your number's 204, right?

**Mac'n'cheese:** Yup

**mutheruv4:** Okay, and remember if he's any trouble . . .

**Mac'n'cheese:** I know, I know, call you.

**mutheruv4 has logged off**

**Mac'n'cheese has logged off**

* * *

**0214**

**Mac's Room**

**Mac's POV**

"Hmm, okay, which is worse . . ." I trailed, flipping through a magazine while balancing Mitchell Roberts beside me on the bed. "A) Getting your tongue stuck on a pole or B) getting your head stuck in a bucket?"

I pause, the question stumping me for a minute. On one hand, if my tongue was stuck to a pole, then most likely it was because of the cold, and therefore I would be standing out in the cold with my tongue frozen to a pole. Now, with my head stuck in a bucket, the weather at least would not be against me, though I wouldn't be able to see . . . "What do you think, Mitch?" I asked, as though it was perfectly sensible to be consulting a one-and-a-half year-old.

Mitchell gurgled happily at me, rubbing his eyes with his tiny hands. He snuggled in closer to me on the bed and I wrapped one arm around him as I circled A. Tongue stuck on a pole was definitely worse. That would be actual physical pain.

"Which is worse, being in a dark scary room alone, or being in a well-lit room with Michael Jackson?" The question horrifies me to the core. "Well-lit room with Michael Jackson, well-lit room with Michael Jackson," I repeated very quickly, circling B.

"Which is worse, having your boyfriend tell you he's cheating on you with your sister, or having your best friend tell you that your boyfriend's been cheating on you with her?" I looked down at Mitchell, who stared up at me in return with big shining blue eyes. "Well, I know what _you _want me to pick," I muttered, ruffling the kid's head. "And seeing as I don't have a sister, I'll have to go with B."

"Which is worse, having a guy tell you he loves you and not mean it, or having a guy tell you he loves you and then take it back?" My voice dampens to a quiet. Mitchell squirms beside me, accustomed to my voice now. In the back of my mind pictures of Harm flash through my mind, the night on the ferry in Sydney Harbor, the night on the dock at the death of Diane's murderer, that night on the Admiral's porch, the night in Paraguay, and finally the night that year ago where he proposed. And my rejection fell hollow within my ears.

"Oh, who needs that question?" I replied, running my pen through the question as a 'non-answer'. "I mean, it's just stupid. No one needs to answer to that. There's no right answer, Mitch. No right answer." I looked down at the infant who squirmed beneath the bed sheets. "See, you're going to be confronted with a lot of questions in your life that won't be solved. That can't be solved. And it just won't due for you to waste your life away on something that'll only bring you pain." My voice draws to an almost deadening halt. "Even if the prize is so exotic that half the time it keeps you from seeing risk."

I suck in a long breath, "Anyways, next question. Which is worse . . ." and then I stop, as my eyes meet the words printed in front of them, "breaking someone's heart, or having your heart broken?"

My fingers run over the magazine page, as the question replays in my mind over and over and over again. Did these damn journalists know what thoughts and feelings they were provoking by asking these kinds of questions? Of course they didn't. They couldn't. Otherwise they would never have printed the damn thing.

_Breaking someone's heart . . . _

'Don't think about Harm,' I silently willed. 'Do NOT think about Harm. He has nothing to do with this. No . . . don't think about him.' And suddenly that look in his eyes when we were in Paraguay, that moment when I told him we could never be together loomed before me, resulting in my heart panging painfully within my chest.

_Having your heart broken . . ._

I thought about that night that Mic left me, the emotional wreck I was, and how desperately I was yearning for comfort, for someone to hold me, for someone to tell me it was alright. And then Harm . . . he was a relief, a savior, and that moment when he closed the door, he shut out everything that would have been, that could have been. And as I sat there on the bed, the young Roberts kid drowning in the sheets beside me, I could have sworn I felt the rain on my face – the liquid bullets that shot down from the sky as I stood out there on the pavement watching Harm embrace Renee, watching her get everything that I so wanted. The comfort, the end to the pain . . .

_Don't think about Harm! _I mentally screamed, flipping shut the useless magazine and throwing into the arm chair across the room. Great load of laughs that was. Beside me, Mitchell stretches his arm up and touches his hand to my face, smiling at the same time. I grin back at him, scooping him up into my arms as I walk out onto the little balcony.

"See, Mitch, I've made a lot of mistakes in my life," I said slowly, holding the little boy closely as we stared out into the vast darkness of night, studded by the bright London Lights. "A lot of really stupid mistakes. I've pushed people away when I wanted to bring them closer. And I brought people closer whom it would have been better to push away."

I smiled sadly at him, lifting him up a little higher to hold. "And years from now you're not going to remember standing out here with me, looking at the lights and the city." I ruffled his angel blonde hair knowingly. "You probably won't even remember being in London at all. But I want you to know," I said, tapping him lightly on the nose, "that I'll always remember talking to you like this." I grinned at him. "Partially because you don't know how to talk yet, and you can't spill the beans on me like you brother."

Setting him down, I steered Mitchell off the porch, shutting the door firmly behind me before I tossed him into bed, him shrieking with laughter as I did so. And I grinned at him as I caught one last sight of his face before I turned out the lights – his eyes already shut from his lost battle with slumber, and his angelic features already at peace with the world.

"I love you kid," I whispered and then promptly fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Mac**

Where is she? Wasn't she supposed to have met us down here five minutes ago?

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

Harriet said Mac didn't get much sleep last night. Mitch slept in her room last night. Anyways, Harm – could you meet me for lunch today? There's um, something I need to tell you. Or talk to you about. Actually, two things really, but I can't say them over . . . never mind, meet me for lunch, okay?

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

Sure, buddy. But look, I'm gonna head up to Mac's room and maybe help out with the kid. Maybe Mitch is holding her up or something. Then we can all head to breakfast. Room 205, right?

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

Yeah, I think so – but remember on lunch, okay? And let's um . . . can we not bring the women with us? I kind of need to talk to you . . . man to man.

Bud

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Mac**

Hey Honey,

Harm just left to go check in on Mitch and Mac. Say, how come you didn't go over to Mac's room this morning like you said you would last night?

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

Well, I was going to go over but I just wanted to call first to make sure that Mitch was doing alright and she was out like a light. And I know she didn't sleep much last night so I thought it was best that we talk in the morning. I mean, we'll have tons of time. The General's giving a lecture this morning, isn't he?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

Hate to break it to you, Harriet, but the seminar the General's giving is on filing. Don't you think you should pay attention? And why IS our son sleeping in Mac's room anyway?

Bud

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

He couldn't get through your and AJ's snoring and he was waking Nikki so I asked Mac if she could keep him the night and she didn't mind. And I WILL be listening to the seminar, thank you very much. But being a member of the feminine species, I come with the wonderful ability of multitasking, thank you very much.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

Were we really snoring that loudly?

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Mac**

You were a buzz saw, Dear.

* * *

**0823**

**Hotel Corridor**

**Harm's POV**

I won't deny the fact that I've now become a tad worried. Not that there's any REASON to be worried. I mean, Mac's running eight minutes late. So what? The world isn't over. Nope, I'm at ease with the world. Mac doesn't love Vukovic. In fact, she doesn't even seem to like him. This is just another lesson for us males that if you really are a terrible dancer, women can drop you like flies. Thank the lord I'm domesticated.

I approach Room 205 feeling a little groggy from last night. No, I didn't get much sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess. I lay my hand on the door knob and _just _as I'm about to turn it, I hear noises. At first, I'm sort of puzzled. I pause in the middle of my attempt to open the door. I listen again and sure enough, the noise resounds once more. And let's just put it this way, it was a REALLY content kind of noise.

I withdraw my hand in absolute disgust. No, it can't be . . . THOSE kinds of noises. Who would Mac be making . . . THOSE kinds of noises with? No, I must have the wrong room. 205 . . . but Bud confirmed it! But no, this couldn't be Mac . . . it couldn't be! Then Bud's words resound in my ears _'Mac didn't get much sleep last night . . .' _No, it couldn't be Mac in there. For one, she has no one to make THOSE noises with except for . . .

NO! I scream both mentally and emotionally, my hand once again clamped against the doorknob. But I can't go in there . . . I can't . . . even if it's to save her career? Sure, there's a great excuse. Mac won't buy it though . . . my godson! Mitchell Roberts is in there! How CAN Mac do those . . . _things, _with our godson in the same room? He may only be a baby but he will be scarred FOR LIFE.

And so in that paralyzing moment, I made a split second decision. Backing up, I charged forward, throwing open the door and running full speed ahead into a completely wrong room. For had my eyes traveled off the door knob, and about thirty inches north, they would have read the 'SAUNA STEAM ROOM' sign.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Room 204**

**Mac's POV**

_I'm running late. _The incredulity of that statement strikes me very harshly. _I'm actually late. _And if this world will turn on me (like it usually does) and become unfathomably cruel (like always) then Harm's probably on time (for once).

"And look at you," I said to Mitch, as I touched up my make up in front of the mirror, straightening my uniform at the same time. "You're still in your pajamas."

Mitchell stared up at me with his big blue eyes in non-communicative response.

"Well, at least one of us has the energy to keep their eyes open, neither one of us got much sleep last night," I muttered, picking up Mitch in an attempt to brush his rather long blonde hair.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Room 205**

**Harm's POV**

_White . . . smoke . . . unbearable heat . . . what the hell?_

I stumble through the room, my hands flying out ahead of me to keep me from hitting something. It's impossible to see. This can't be Mac's room . . . I've got the wrong number . . . I hit one of the benches and nearly trip over it. I fall down onto the seat, grabbing the wooden edge to keep myself from overbalancing.

_Wow, it's hot in here. _

I stand up very suddenly, feeling my way through the room, my eyes filling with smoky steam and then . . . a voice resounds through the fogginess.

"_And look at you . . . you're still in your pajamas."_

I halt in mid-step. That voice . . . I would know that voice anywhere. But Mac . . . she couldn't be in here? No, she would be in the room next door . . .

And then the noises start. Content groans, whimpers, the sounds fill my ears and disgust me to my very core. No, Mac and . . . it couldn't be. It absolutely couldn't. And I was almost beginning to believe that, that the noises never could be Mac when suddenly her voice broke out again.

"_Well at least one of us has the energy to keep their eyes open. Neither one of us got much sleep last night."_

NO!

I dash forward through the steam and the fog, my arms drawn out in front of me. It's boiling in here but all I can think about is the thought of Mac with some other guy . . . with Vukovic. _But she said there was nothing there! She said she didn't love him!_ These thoughts fly through my mind at an alarming speed. _Mac wouldn't lie to me . . . she wouldn't . . . would she?_

_You haven't seen the woman in a year, _my nasty little mind-voice has returned once more. _Who knows how much she's changed . . . you don't need to be in love to do . . . that . . ._

SHUT UP!

I ram head first into the door, falling flat against the floor, my hand very briefly grazing the now swelling bump on my head. Voices swirl around me, filling my ears and resounding a hundred times more.

"_Alright, Sweetie, let's get you dressed and then we'll go down for breakfast."_

SHE'S BRINGING HIM TO BREAKFAST?

"_Everyone's waiting on us."_

OTHER PEOPLE KNOW?

My eyes snap open, my vision immediately engulfed in white smoke. Other people know about Mac and . . . this guy? How long has it been going on? AND WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME? And then another revolting thought strikes me. She was doing THAT with our GODSON in the ROOM?

More intimate noises filter in through the walls of the room. _No . . . oh God, no . . . Mac . . ._ I lay there with my back to the floor, the heat intense, steam swirling like clouds all around me, noises resounding within the room through the flimsy walls and all I can think is _'Why did she do this to me?' _

Which is perfectly illogical, I mean. Mac would never do anything to INTENTIONALLY hurt me. I know that. But then why did she keep this all hushed up? And why didn't she tell me before? Besides, who the hell IS this guy? For all she knows he could be the transvestite killer! Or worse he could be another Vukopuke. IS HE VUKOPUKE?

_Get up, _my voice tells me. _Get off the floor, this is just sad._

Shut up.

_It's none of your business who Mac spends her nights with._

I told you to shut up.

_Mitchell's just a baby, he won't remember a thing._

That's besides the point – we're talking about ETHICS here, but you wouldn't understand that – you don't have any.

_You do know that I'm you, right?_

Shut up.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Room 204**

**Mac's POV**

I sit Mitchell up on the dresser as I struggle to put a shirt on him. It's a good thing that Harriet left one of the baby bags in my room or Mitch would be stuck going to breakfast in pajamas. But unfortunately for me, I'm dealing with an extremely defiant child. Either he just WANTS me to be teased by Harm for all eternity for being THIS late to breakfast, or he just doesn't like the shirt I'm trying to put on him because he refuses to raise his arms.

"Come on, sweetie," I coax tickling him a little to get him to raise his arms. "You need to put a shirt on. One of the rules of the restaurant is they won't accept customers without shirts."

But it's useless talking to the kid. Sure, maybe he DOESN'T understand me, but he could at least give me the _illusion _that he's listening. But nope, Mitch stares up at the ceiling as though immeasurably fascinated by the dull beige paint color.

I roll my eyes at Mitch as the telephone rings. My money's on either Harm calling to taunt me, or two very worried parents wondering about the absence of their son. I pick up the phone and walk into the bathroom, turning on the tap to wash my hands. "Hello."

"Mac?"

"Hey, Harriet," I sigh, adding a little soap to my hands as I hold the telephone between my ear and my shoulder. "Don't worry, Mitch is fine. We just woke up really late this morning. Look, can we talk about Operation Depants during the General's seminar? We'll email, okay? Look, I'll be down in like three minutes if your son would only get his shirt on . . ."

"Just get Harm to put it on," Harriet's voice rattles off. "Harm's good with Mitch."

"Well, I wouldn't want to bother him," I said, frowning slightly as I rinsed my hands off. "He's down there with you."

A long pause and then, _"No, _he's not. He's up there with you – he left to get you about five minutes ago."

"Well, he never reached here."

A long puzzled pause and then, though muffled by the fact that Harriet was not actually _speaking_ into the phone, I could hear, "You told him room 205? THAT'S THE SAUNA, BUD!" and then turning back to me she goes, "Um, maybe you'd best check –"

"Yeah, I got it," I replied shortly, wondering how on earth Harm could have detoured to the sauna. I finished rinsing my hands. "Okay, we're going. Bye."

And I hung up, picking Mitchell up while swinging the shirt over his head. So what if his arms aren't in the sleeves? He'll probably cause less trouble like this anyway. Opening up the door, I walked out, shutting it firmly behind me while walking to the next room. 205 – Sauna . . . and then I heard it.

Noises. Very . . . _romantic _noises. For a minute, I'm terrified. Harm . . .? But in a _sauna_ . . .? My mind is trying to grasp at the straws. But he came to find ME! How does one get so detoured? I contemplate opening up the door, but I have Mitch with me. And the poor child does not need such visual trauma at his young age. And then I hear another thing . . . a groan. Not an . . . _intimate _groan, but a groan you get when you've got a pounding headache. And it's Harm. I know his voice anywhere.

"Harm?" I ask, and upon receiving no answer, I open the door a little and take a peak in. But all I can see is steam swirling around thickly, fogging my sight and destroying any visual chances I have at all. Setting Mitch down on the ground, I open the door a little more, taking one step forward and then –

I fall.

I scream as I trip over something, or rather _someone_, and am sent hurtling to the ground. But luckily for me, there's already someone on the floor to break my fall.

"Oof!" Harm let's out a painful groan as I fall on top of him, entangling limb and limb while I try my best to roll off of him. Pain shoots up my left leg whereas my right leg has definitely squashed some part of Harm's body and in the pained groan that he uttered as I tried to move it but only ended up sinking my knee in further, I had a pretty good idea of which body part it was.

"Harm?" I exclaim in surprise, groping around in an attempt to disentangle our colliding bodies but nothing's giving. The steam is thick, the heat intense, and I can't see a damned thing.

"Mac?" he groans from beside me, moving a little to give me space.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask, touching what I hope to god is his shoulder.

"I'll live again," Harm mutters though admittedly through wheezy. And we just lay there for a minute, drowned in steam, sweating our asses off, aching in pain from our various falls, and then sure enough – the next step. The delusional laughter.

"Harm," I say as my partner is suddenly overcome by a fit of nervous laughs. "Harm, we've got to get out of here. They'll be looking for us."

"Let 'em look," Harm replied carelessly, laughing in the out-of-breath way once more. The seriousness in his voice was gone."This is fun."

"How hard did you hit your head?" I asked him, amusement clearly noted in my voice. It was ruddy unbelievable. I was in a steam room with Harmon Rabb Jr., in a hotel teeming with uniformed officers, we were lying on the FLOOR, and in full military attire. Can someone please pinch me?

I struggle to get up, groping my way through thick smog. "Okay, Harm, you gotta get up now."

"No, don't leave," Harm laughs, pulling my arm back down. "This is too much fun."

"Sorry, Harm," I replied, hoping to God that my voice concealed the grin that was lighting my face, "lying on the floor in a steam room with you is not on my priority list. Breakfast, however, is."

I move to get up once more but then –

"Mac," Harm says, his tone suddenly turning serious.

I turn around, trying to see him but to no avail. "Yeah?"

"How . . ." Harm begins but then suddenly stops, already mulling over his unsaid words. "Who . . ." He's having a hard time finding his words, fumbling over syllables.

I sighed, sitting back on the floor with him. "Just spit it out, Harm."

Harm hesitates for a minute and then, "did you have a guy in your room last night?"

I pause, wondering where he's going with this. In a very serious manner I reply, "yes, Harm."

A long silence and then . . . "Why, Mac?"

"Huh?" I said, my eyes still searching for Harm through the indoor cloud.

"Why do you need some guy for one night?" Harm snaps suddenly, his voice both anguished and wrenched at the same time. "A real relationship is so much better. I know you haven't had a lot of luck in the past, but that could change, Mac, if you met the right guy . . ."

What the hell is he talking about?

"And maybe you don't realize that right now but it would be terrible if you ruined your future over some stupid stunt like this," Harm carried on, oblivious to my confusion. "I mean, he's in your _command, _Mac. It's different than just some . . . guy! I mean, you said –"

"Are we talking about Vukovic?" I interrupted, grasping at straws upon the topic of our conversation.

A pause and then, "Yeah."

I don't understand anything that's going on. Guy in the bedroom – my godson. Stupid stunt . . . Vukovic? I'm sure on some planet, in someone's frame of mind (read: Harm's) it all makes sense, but to a normal person (read: me) it's absolute gibberish. "Harm, I have no idea what you're talking about."

And then, "wasn't Vukovic the guy in your room last night?"

To say I'm blown is an understatement. "No!"

An embarrassed silence and then, "oh . . ."

I grab onto one of his limbs (don't care much about which one at the moment) and scream (yes, SCREAM), "Harm, get it through your HEAD. There is NOTHING going on between ME and VUKOVIC! The guy that was in my room last night is MITCHELL ROBERTS. Yes, our godson, Mitch. He couldn't sleep because of AJ snoring, so I took him. And I'll repeat once more: NO VUKOVIC!"

I'd love to say what happened next was really sweet and touching, and there was a lot of apologizing and laughing and smiling and generally happy gestures – and there was for about a millisecond where I tried in vain to hug Harm, but bearing in mind the fact that Big Foot could have hidden in this room undetected if he'd just been silent, I probably just wound up hugging his waist or something. And it was then, in mid-embrace, that the – ahem, "noises" started.

I looked up at Harm with an expression of absolute horror. And had I been able to see his face, I have no doubt that our expressions would have been identical.

"What the hell?" Harm articulated the thought running through my mind.

"It's coming through the wall," I replied, sitting up a little but still leaning on Harm.

"But I thought you're the room beside the sauna," Harm argues.

"Traditionally two sides – two rooms," I replied rolling my eyes, though it was pointless considering he could not see me.

A long breath and then, "_OH!"_

"What _'Oh'_?" I asked, shooting up an eyebrow.

"I heard you talking to Mitch and . . . and then the noises from the other . . ." And even though Harm hasn't managed to finish one sentence I am beginning to piece together all the conversation I had with Mitchell. I never called him by his name, only 'sweetie' or 'honey'. And the only time I DID talk normally I had the water running. And I feel a beautiful wild grin spread across my face.

"You were worried about me."

"What?"

"Yeah," I grinned wildly, leaning against him more. "You were worried that me and Vukovic were going at it."

And then the most fearsome, terrifying sound there ever was shafts through the room. A clearing of the throat. A very _specific _clearing of the throat. "And please, Colonel, define 'going at it.'"

I attempt to straighten myself before the door opens but I can see nothing and therefore can not do anything. Light shafts in and being right at the foot of the door, all I can see is the General's bulky figure standing as a shadow as light flooded in. And dammit, he looks scary.

"Commander, Colonel, on your feet!"

We scramble upwards, grabbing onto each other for support. And yes, I'm fully aware that as the General dragged us out of the steam room we looked like an utter mess. Our uniforms were crumpled, our faces were sweaty, our hair was a general mess, and as soon as we DID enter the hallway, we were immediately greeted by the entire Roberts clan, Sturgis, and –

"Well, what have we here?" The Admiral's voice is almost . . . amused.

"Sir, we didn't mean to –" I begin at the same time Harm spits out, "Sir, this is just a mis –"

We both stare at each other.

"Let 'em look, huh?" I whispered as the General began to say something to the Admiral but all four of us were interrupted by AJ running down the hall, bright eyed and bushy tailed, a boy baring important news. "Uncle Harm, Uncle Harm!" he calls, running up to Harm and grinning in a very Roberst way. "Aunt Pants told me to tell you she's here!"

Instantly, reaction flies across the room. Harriet gasps, "AJ!"

My face contorts into restrained laughter.

The Admiral and the General just don't get it.

Harm has an expression of amused shock on his face.

And none of us can help what comes next –

"HARMY!" Jean cries, running down the hallway and doing a terrible job of it in her four-inch heels. She takes an absolutely mortified glance at Harm's disheveled appearance, and his facial ruddiness from the heat and the steam, scans me for I of course look no better, and draws what I can only presume as the completely wrong conclusion. So she does what any jealous stricken woman would have done.

"Oh, Harmy, if you wanted to have a trip in the sauna you could have just _told _me," Jean stretches, batting her eyelashes in the very cute but poisonous way she always does, "Because I guarantee you – with me, you will definitely have no use for uniform."

Harriet bites her lower lip.

My jaw hangs open.

The General and the Admiral are now catching themselves up to speed.

Harm looks absolutely mortified.

But somewhere in that split second of utter verbal atrocity, I realized something; a rule was set down on the table that had never been etched in stone. Theoffers were laid out on the table. I unconsciously submit Harm andI in a steam room in uniform, she puts down her and Harm in a steam room with no clothes. Well, that's just dandy then. Round one goes to Jean.

But she's forgetting who I have on my side. I have the mastermind of all dating competition, the Einstein of romance. And we have a whole seminar to sketch it all out. This afternoon in seminar-free. This afternoon also happens to be Jean-free. Thank the lord someone out there needs to buy a pair of pants (ahem, no pun intended).

But, I grinned to myself as I sat down for the seminar, my blackberry already poised in my lap and turned on, one thing was already working for me. Jean was threatened by me.

_And she had every right to be._

* * *

**A/N: Alright, back to the polls. 1 - 10, how much did you LOVE that HM moment in the Sauna?**


	15. The Rules of S

**A/N: Chapter 15. Only like . . . I think seven more to go, before I can start writing more. Yeyah. **

**The Rules of S**

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Knock 'em dead**

Now, the art of creating the infamous catch is a dream that women have long since perfected over the ages, and now it is my turn as the teacher. I am obligated to divulge the cardinal rules of boyfriend stealing. And knowing you, Mac, you would not like me to title said talent as such, so therefore we'll just call it The Rules of S. And they are as following:

**Sight** – you must never release yourself from his vision unless impossible to part ways. Do not come within close proximity, stray. Do not be afraid to communicate with others. It is better if you do so. Most important rule: Never let HIM out of your eye sight. One of the most brilliant and intimate forms of communication is eyesight. Never take it for granted.

**Speech – **one of the key elements to getting your man is inside jokes, private things that only you and him know. It creates a bond that cannot be broken by any clothing-named hussy. Converse amongst yourselves, use that great golden tongue of yours, relive your personal history – it's the greatest weapon you have.

**Sense – **if you have it, USE IT! Make the call on what to do. Be perceived as witty, but not so exceptionally smart that you make your man feel inferior. Be charming and cunning, and keep your wits about you!

**Skin –** when wearing t-shirts or tank tops, keep them low enough to _just _meet belt level. Stretch, bend, twist in any which way in front of your target, exposing a healthy amount of waist. Make an art form out of what would usually be a normal task

**Seduction –** use all of the above. Be there, but stray. Always available, but hard to get. Tempt, charm, but don't make the first step. Let HIM come to YOU.

And those, my friend, are The Rules of S.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

Firstissue - Harriet, you scare me.Secondissue -I don't even GET it! What am I supposed to do? How the hell am I supposed to lure him away from Jean? You've given me nothing here! Nothing!

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

Mac, if it's one thing that I've learned through The Rules of S is that IT TAKES TIME. Start with small things like . . . in the conference after lunch, sit next to Harm. You haven't sat next to him once all conference.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

And what will sitting next to him prove?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

Mac, it's not about PROVING anything. Take notes, brush your arm against his, ask if you can borrow a pencil – no, nix that – WHISPER in his ear, if you can borrow a pencil. Intimate gestures that suggest a little more than friendship, but that is not enough to neither confirm nor deny.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

Harriet, that'll never work! I have touched his arm a million times, I've probably borrowed as many pencils from him as t-shirts – I need a different plan! What are my other options?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

You tell him that you're truly madly deeply in love with him.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

. . . So . . . Rules of S, huh?

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Knock 'em dead**

Yep.

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Busted**

Look at the Admiral – he's staring right at Mac who's undoubtedly typing away to Harriet on her blackberry. THE GIRLS ARE GETTING BUSTED!

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Admiral AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: seminars**

Well, Colonel and Captain,

Seeing as you have found it so obviously below your fountain of knowledge to submerge yourselves in topics of supposed utter boredom that your fellow JAG officers are now engaging, I am pleased to announce that due to your confidence in each other and yourselves, you two will now be heading the JAG Partnership Building Program. The first meeting of the PBP is tonight at seven o'clock in Courtroom number 4.

You will be leading your class through a number of exercises as suggested in the pamphlet that will be delivered to you at the end of this seminar. I suggest that you two familiarize yourselves with the work that is to be completed at the end of this class, where you will be competing with other classes of the PBP.

Best of luck,

Retired Admiral AJ Chegwidden

P.S: NOW PAY ATTENTION!

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: good job**

Nice going, Hammer. GIRLS ARE GETTING BUSTED!

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: good job**

Shut up.

* * *

**1739**

**Subway **(A/N: as in, the restaurant – for all of you who don't know what Subway is)

**Harm's POV**

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" I asked Bud as we sit down in one of those cramped little yellow booths, with subs a foot long, mine spurting out vegetables and Bud a mixture of ham and cucumber.

"Sir . . ." Bud trails, looking almost anxiously from side to side as though the old lady treating her four-year old grandson to a sandwich is a possible eavesdropper. "Sir, I think Harriet might be pregnant."

My jaw hangs open in mid-chew, making for a slightly distasteful picture. "You THINK?"

"Well, I don't know!" Bud defended. "She hasn't said anything – but she didn't have coffee with breakfast this morning, she had tea, AND she was sick last night!"

"Pardon me, Bud," I said, leaning forward in my chair a little, "but isn't it called MORNING sickness, not NIGHT sickness?"

"Harriet's always had her morning sickness at night," Bud muttered faintly. "Sir, what am I going to do with a fifth?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "You'll become the Huxtables." Bud stared at me. "You know . . ." I slowly elaborated. "Like from the Cosby show?"

"And why isn't she telling me?" Bud ploughed on, deaf to my last comment. "Don't we have a trusting relationship? You'd think she would tell me if I was about to become a father again!"

"Hey, Bud!" I hollered over the younger man's excitable rant. "Here's a thought: YOU DON'T KNOW SHE'S PREGNANT!"

By now we're attracting a little attention, as you can probably imagine. Bud stared at me and then seemed to deflate slightly. "I just don't want things to be . . . you know, I want things to be good between Harriet and I."

I exhaled slightly. "They are, Bud. If she's pregnant, then she's waiting for the right moment to tell you. And if she's not, then you're worrying yourself over nothing."

Bud looked up at me with imploring eyes. "Do you think you could talk to her, sir?"

I sighed. "Come on, Bud, she's your wife . . . besides," I added quickly, "I've got to go do that Partnership Program with Mac."

"You have any idea what you've got to do?" Bud asked me.

I sighed, "Mac's got the pamphlet. But it doesn't sound TOO bad . . ."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Deli across the street**

**Mac's POV**

"Oh. My. God," I punctuate every word with a slap of my hand. Harriet stares at me from across the table, a fat greasy burger already making its way into her mouth.

She looked over at me in concern, "what does it say you have to do?"  
"Everything," I muttered. "Quizzes, partnership stances, you know those stupid things where one person has to fall backwards and the other has to catch them? That sort of stuff!"

"It doesn't sound that bad," Harriet replied frowning.

"Harriet, considering Harm and I can't investigate one case without arguing, I doubt we'll be able to –" my eyes flip down to an open page and read "build a fort in less than a minute using the supplies listed below . . ." I roll my eyes. "Good god."

"Look at this in the positive," Harriet said, taking a handful of my fries after finishing hers. "You get to spend more time with Harm."

"Leading a bunch of kids through activities we used to do when we were twelve," I argued. "And we'll be doing this every night for the rest of the time we're here. We'll never get any alone time."

Harriet sighed, squeezing out a whole bottle of ketchup onto her onion rings (ew, gross), "oh well, Mac. You'll just have to flash your charm then. Maybe go out for dinner after your classes." Harriet shrugged, "Oh, I'm not feeling too good."

"Well, no offense, Harriet," I replied, looking on in concern as Harriet put her hand to her stomach. "But you did just now eat rather a lot."

"I know," Harriet replied with the look of someone completely nauseated. "I think I'm having cravings."

"Cravings?"

Harriet rolled her eyes. "You know . . ." her voice dropped low. "Pregnancy cravings."

I shot up, "Harriet!" I exclaimed.

"Shh!" She shot me a panicked look while desperately trying to dampen my rising voice.

"I thought you didn't know yet!" I whispered. I cast a look down at her stomach, "is it confirmed?"

"Not yet," Harriet whispered in return, relieved that I had lowered my voice. "There've been some . . . things standing in the way."

"What kind of things?" I interrogated, pushing away my fries as though suddenly not hungry.

"Things like . . . I haven't taken the test yet," Harriet replied guiltily. I cast her a panicked look. "Oh, it's not as bad as it seems, okay? There was no sense in taking one until I felt sure there was a . . . you know, possibility."

"Well, is there a possibility?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Harriet was silent for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

"Have you told Bud yet?"

Harriet shrugged, "there's no use telling him only a suspicion!"

"Harriet, that's his CHILD you might be carrying!" I whisper yelled. "You don't think he has a right to know?"

"Of course he has a right to know," Harriet's whisper overpowered mine. "I'm waiting for the right moment!"

"When?" I cried incredulously. "When the kid pops out?"

"_Mac," _Harriet stretched in desperation. "I need to be sure first!"

"Then take the test."

"Now?"

"Yes, now!"

Harriet's exasperation was clear. "Mac, we don't have a test!"

"Then we'll get one!"

"Now?"

"Yes now!"

"_Mac," _Harriet stretches. "It's lucky Bud and I got a baby sitter on such short notice – and her hours expire in approximately twenty-five minutes."

"For god's sake, she's not a _parking meter_," I replied rolling my eyes. "And anyways, how long does it take to pee on a stick?"

"That's not the point . . ." Harriet trailed, smiling at me wild-eyed. "Look, I'll pee on the damn stick later."

"Tonight!"

"I can't."

I flashed her an incredulous look. "Why not?"

Harriet stared at me. "Well, I suppose I could, but you have that Partnership Yada Yada Yada thing tonight with Harm. Don't you want to be there to find out?"

"That shouldn't stop you!" I ploughed on. "Just . . . email me with the findings!"

"What findings?"

Harriet and I whipped around to see Harm and Bud behind us, having just entered the deli. For one minute, I'm completely panic stricken, but the next second turns over into a cool passive response. "You know . . . the seminar . . ."

_Smooth, Mackenzie._

Harm grinned at me. "I wasn't aware you were paying attention to it."

I mockingly glared at him. "And how would you know? It's not like you were either."

"Honey, why don't we go?" Bud asked, extending a hand to Harriet who promptly took it.

"We'll see you guys . . . later?" Harriet asked, looking at her watch. "You have to go prepare for that . . . class, right?"

"Yeah," Harm replied shortly. "Fun fun fun."

"Okay, well – see you," Harriet said, flashing me a look that very clearly said 'Take Advantage over your non Pants filled time together and make your move'. I responded with a 'How very subtle of you' look.

"So . . ." Harm trailed as Bud and Harriet disappeared along the street. "Do you want to head back to my place?" I stared at him. "You know," he muttered quickly, "to get a good look at that pamphlet. We should kind of know what we're teaching before we actually start . . ." Harm fumbles with his words.

"Teaching?" I suggested, one eyebrow raised.

Harm flashed me an annoyed frown which was almost immediately replaced with the Flyboy grin. "Smart aleck."

"Yeah, every so often I get this flash of your personality," I grinned back at him, putting my hand to my forehead in mock temperature-checking. "Oh, cruel God."

"Funny," Harm replied sarcastically, grasping my arm and pulling me across the street as we made a break through a traffic light that was just about to change. Just as I thought he was about to let go of my hand he pulled me up to an apartment building situated right at the corner of the street. I looked up at it. It was definitely in better condition than his old place.

"What floor?" I asked breezily as he typed in a code to get into the building. The door opened.

"Top," Harm replied as we filed into the elevator. "Took me forever to get it, though."

"Oh yeah?"

Harm nodded. "Uh huh. I had to outbid like five people."

The elevator door opened and Harm led me down a hallway to room 24, opening up the door with his key. "Welcome to my humble abode," he grinned and opened the door.

I smiled as I entered the room. "Harm, this is really beautiful."

"I hoped you'd think so," Harm said, throwing his jacket on the coat hanger and motioning for me to do the same. "Want the grand tour?"

"I'd love it," I replied, as Harm led me into the living room. Somewhere at the back of my mind Harriet's Rules of S played back in my head. Sight – I sighed as I watched him bend over to movie the coffee table a little closer to the couch, catching a great view of his rear end. Oh yeah, definitely got sight covered . . . Speech – conversation was going pretty well. I hadn't said anything stupid or embarrassing yet. Sense – I had that, didn't I? Skin – my t-shirt was short, and without my jacket I had exposed an albeit very fine line of flesh. Seduction - . . . working on it.

"This is the living room," Harm replied, gesturing towards the room that _actually had a TV!_

"I'm impressed," I said, smiling at him. "You've gone all out and got surround sound on top of buying yourself a TV."

"What can I say?" Harm shrugged. "Without my friends around suddenly evenings became a lot more dull and CSI started seeming a lot more appealing."

"CSI, eh?" I asked, as we moved onto the kitchen. "Nick's hot."

Harm winced. "Ew, Mac . . ."

"What?" I trailed innocently. "He is . . ."

"I'm not going there with you," Harm warded me off grinning.

"Very nice," I said quickly as Harm motioned to the kitchen. "But why can't we go there?"

"Because it's _weird," _Harm replied stiffly. "I mean, how would you like it if I started telling you about the women I thought were hot?"

"Who DO you think is hot?" I challenged, ignoring his question.

"Red light."

"Oh come on," I protested. "We're passed the green light, yellow light, red light stage!"

"Are we?" Harm's question hangs in the air.

"I can take anything you dish out," I said, walking forward so I was close and in front of him. "Shoot."

Harm cocks up his eyebrow. "YOU can take anything I dish out?"

An annoyed expression overtook my features. "You don't think I can?"

"Nah," Harm replied, grinning at me lazily as he flopped down onto a couch and I took the seat across from him – the house tour momentarily forgotten. "I'm afraid I'd make you blush. And you know what they say about Marine's blushing." Harm shook his head. "Not a pretty thing."

My eyebrow soars up to the sky. "You think you can make me blush?"

"I'm certain I can make you blush."

I scoff at him. "I have more chance of making YOU blush than you do ME."

Harm stands up. "Alright, you're on."

He extends a hand and I shake it firmly. "What does the loser have to do?"

Harm paused thoughtfully. "The winner . . . tells the loser what to do. One thing – " He winked at me. "All out."

"All out," I agreed, as I opened up the pamphlet. There was a moment of stifling silence that fell between us, daring the other to say something and then –

"So what does that pamphlet actually say we have to do?" Harm asked, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the text. I edged over next to him, showing him the page.

"Lots of stuff," I replied. "Getting to know your partner, familiarizing styles, trust games, compatibility, team work exercises." I rolled my eyes. "What do you want to start off with?"

Harm frowned. "No quizzes. Not yet. They haven't even been assigned partners yet."

I nodded, "yeah, give them a few days to get to know each other before we bring out those questions."

"So what do you think?" Harm asked. "Trust games?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "They sound like the easiest."

Harm nodded, suddenly checking his watch. "You know, if we want to have everything set up in the courtroom we should probably get going. You know, be a little early."

I checked my watch, and then nodded. "You're right. Move the benches and chairs out of the way to give us a clear floor."

Harm grabbed his coat while putting mine over my shoulders in a very gentlemanly like way. "Alright, let's get moving."

We moved quickly along the streets, minimal talking but a lot of smiling. I'm suddenly struck by how . . . normal this feels. You know, the friendly banter, the challenges, the general closeness. Do I really want to risk this for a slim shot at intimacy? I immediately push the thought to the back of my mind. This is no time to get cold feet.

"Here we are," Harm said slowly, jogging me out of my reverie. I looked around as he led me into a large rather circular room. It was empty, with white light slowly creeping in through the bare windows, shining upon unused chairs and of course – the bench. "Kinda creepy in the evening, huh?"

"It's not that dark," I rebutted, though now that Harm had mentioned it, the sky was beginning to deepen in color, faint traces of moon slightly detectable against the fading light form the sun. I shivered a little. "Where's the light switch?"

Harm grinned at me from across the room. "I thought it wasn't that dark."

"I can't read," I said in defense, getting up and walking near the door. "Now where is it?"

"Further along," Harm replied lazily, beginning to move the chairs to the side of the room. "Open the door and the switch is out beside it in the hall."

I opened the door, stepping into the now dark hall. How come it wasn't dark when we came through it? _Because Harm had turned on the lights then. _

_Idiot, _I chided myself as I looked around the hallway, almost eerily dark with only slight rays of natural light seeping in from the corners. _You're not afraid of the dark. Just find the damn switch._

I groped around, my hands sliding against the wall. _Honestly, it's not that dark – you can see! _Why the hell is my own personal voice always against me? I ran my hand along the edge near the door and then –

"BOO!"

I screamed as a pair of strong hands wrapped themselves around my waist. I twisted around ready to strike and then my pounding heart suddenly relented. "Harm!" I screamed hoarsely, untangling myself from his awkward embrace. "What the hell!"

"I got you scared," Harm grinned, finding the switch easily and turning on the courtroom lights. "And that doesn't happen every day."

"That's because you're not _suicidal _every day," I snarled in return. "That wasn't funny."

"I don't know about that," Harm replied, picking up one side of the table and motioning for me to pick up the other. "Seeing you jump when I held you was pretty entertaining."

"You're twisted," I said, rolling my eyes. "And anyways, I wasn't scared."

Harm's face displays mild shock. "You were so scared."

"Was not," I replied breezily, setting the table down by the side and picking up another chair. "Besides, the challenge was to get me to blush – not get me scared."

Harm shrugged. "Call it a bonus."

As the chairs were cleared away to reveal a large circular floor I sighed, flopping myself down on the ground. "Okay, what exercises are we going to start off with?"

"Weren't we going to do those trust activities?" Harm asked, lying down beside me.

"Well, yeah," I replied. "But we'll probably have to demonstrate, and we should pick out which ones we're doing first."

"Okay . . ." Harm trailed, picking up the pamphlet and scrolling down the list. "Um, we can always do that – one person falls and the other catches one."

"This is a rather hard floor for someone to hit their head on," I replied. "You know, if they fall."

"No one will fall," Harm replied. "Besides, these are future members of the Judge Advocate General Corp. They should toughen up a little."

"Oh god, please do not turn this into a military drill," I said, rolling my eyes. "Okay, how about this – the partner support thingy?"

"What is that?" Harm asked, flipping to the back where they gave the definition. "Oh, okay – this is really easy. We can start off with it."

"What do you do?"

"Um, okay, one person lies on the floor like . . . well, I'm doing," Harm motioned to himself. "And then I put my feet up vertically, and I balance my partner."

I looked at Harm incredulously. "That's it?"

"Yup," Harm said shortly. "Apparently it gives one a feeling of support and assistance, the creation of the bondage of a team. Or so the pamphlet says."

"Well we could do that," I replied rolling my eyes.

"And we'll have to," Harm agreed, "you know – as an example."

"Right," I agreed, "I mean, it's not as if it's hard."

"And sure, these exercises are meant for younger people . . ."

"Not that we're not young."

"Of course, and the fact that we've never really done this . . ."

"Not that there's any reason it should be hard . . ."

We stared at each other.

"Wanna give it a practice run?" I asked weakly.

"Yeah, sure," Harm replied, lying flatter on his back. "Okay, get on."

I raised my eyebrow as laid my stomach flat onto his feet, reaching my hands out to grab Harm's to straighten myself out. "Kinky."

"Red light, Colonel," Harm grinned from below me.

"I thought we agreed not to use those any more," I muttered, shifting a little so that Harm's feet were now holding my waste as our hands looped to keep me from falling.

"Yeah, well . . ." Harm began but I was interrupted by the ring from my blackberry.

I flashed him an apologetic look, "one sec."

"Wait, Mac, you're not going to . . ." Harm began, but I was already removing my blackberry from my jean pocket, still balancing myself on Harm's legs, one arm still holding onto his.

"Oh, it's from Harriet," I replied faintly, opening up the email.

"What does it say?" Harm asked, shifting a little and causing me to shake.

"It says . . ." I replied scrolling down the email . . . and then my mouth dropped open. "She's pregnant!"

CRASH!

I fell on top of Harm as his legs came tumbling down from the shock of it all. My hands flew out to stop myself from hitting the floor but instead managed to wind themselves around Harm's shoulders. Our head banged together sharply and painfully. Harm turned to twist me off him but instead managed to catch my legs within his and then –

The door opened and students began filling in. I looked up to see at least twenty pairs of eyes zoning in on Harm and I laying in a tangled heap on the floor, limbs locked to one another – blackberry and pamphlet be damned. Harm grinned guiltily as he efficiently untangled himself from my body. "Well . . . welcome to the JAG Partnership Building Program, kids."

* * *

**A/N: Damn. I can't think of anything for this pole . . . ooh wait, nevermind. VOTE! Roberts child: girl or boy? Ooooohh. lol **


	16. Squid Vs Jarhead

**A/N: Six chapters to go . . .**

_**Flashback to 'The Rules of S'**_

_The door opened and students began filing in. I looked up to see at least twenty pairs of eyes zoning in on Harm and I laying in a tangled heap on the floor, limbs locked to one another – blackberry and pamphlet be damned. Harm grinned guiltily as he efficiently disentangled himself from my body. "Well . . . welcome to the JAG Partnership Building Program."_

**Squid vs. Jarhead**

**0700**

**JAG Partnership Building Program**

**Harm's POV**

"Welcome to the JAG Partnership Building Program." I clear my throat. "My name is Captain Harmon Rabb and my partner here is Colonel Sarah Mackenzie."

My own voice echoes around the now silent room. At the corner of my eyes I see Mac rush to get up off the floor but I try to keep my vision on the large amount of students that have now assembled, around twenty of them, all in their early twenties.

The boy in the corner with shock blonde hair grinned snidely. "Is that what we're going to be doing?" He motioned to Mac scrambling up off the ground. His dark eyes flashed as he smirked, "and do we get extra-curricular assignments too?"

I glared at the insolent kid. "No . . ." I trailed, marching right up to him, "but that can be arranged." I stared at him, "Name and age."

"Zachary Taron, twenty-one," he said coolly, matching my glare with his own. "But you can call me Zach."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you, Zach," Mac says strongly, moving in front of me and effectively cutting off my glare. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Now, if you could just form a line and one by one step up and say your name and age."

I flash Mac a 'why did you do that, I had him so nailed' look which she promptly smothers with a 'don't even go there' look. We turned back to the line of kids who were now shuffling rather anxiously from foot to foot, trying to seem as impressive as possible.

"Alright, excluding Zach, I'd like to start from the left end and go down, saying your name and age, just to let us get to know all of you better," I said, once again seizing control. "You, um . . . girl, you can start."

A small dirty blonde haired girl stepped forward, looping a stray strand from her loose ponytail behind her ear. "Terry Connors, nineteen."

A low whistle greeted Terry's statement. Annoyed, the nineteen year old turned around to see none other than Zachary Taron grinning at her from the middle of the line. "No shit, you're nineteen?"

"Have you got a problem, Taron?" Terry responded coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Zack rose an eyebrow but his face remained impassive. "Not a one."

"And for our first set of partners we've got Taron and Connors," Mac butted in before I could open my mouth. While Zach looks surprised, Terry's absolutely mortified. I shoot Mac a questioning glance but she either doesn't notice it or fails to heed the warning in my eyes. "Now, next in line."

One by one the students come forward, stating their names and age while Mac strings random people together, judging mostly by age and size. After they were all partnered up and moved to different parts of the room to talk with each other, I pulled Mac to the side and whispered, "Are you crazy? Taron and Connors? We've known them for less than ten minutes and I can already tell they'll bite each other's heads off if they get too close."

Mac rolls her eyes. "Zach's a bit . . . overzealous. But did you see the way he backed down when Terry confronted him? The girl's got control . . . and who knows who else Zach will retreat from like that? It's better this way."

I stared at her. "When did you get so insightful?"

Mac grins. "When you spend all day trying to find out who has the willpower and the stomach to withstand partnership with Vukovic, you pick up on these things." Mac smiled as her eyes fell upon Zach and Terry who wore arguing silently in the left corner of the room. "Ah, young love."

I send her a startled glance. "You think they're in love?" I laugh throatily. "Mac, they just _met. _And they don't even LIKE each other!"

"There's a big difference between like and LIKE," Mac explained with a knowing glance at the two young adults. "But the line between LIKE and hate is very fine . . ."

"It's not all that fine," I argue. "I definitely do not LIKE Clayton Webb."

"You're right," Mac agreed. "You like him . . . you don't hate him." Her eyes met squarely with mine. "However much you may think you do."

"Way too insightful for my liking," I mumbled under my breath as she rolled her eyes. "Look, you take the left side of the room and I'll take the right. Round 'em up in about five minutes for the first exercise?"

"Sure, give ME Zach and Terry," Mac grumbled, but nonetheless moving over to the left side.

"Hey, you put 'em together," I responded breezily as I moved to the right. "You're the one who must withstand their insanity driven bickering."

Mac scowled at me causing me to grin. _Hey, maybe this class won't be so bad after all . . ._

* * *

**Same Time**

**Same Place**

**Mac's POV**

I lean against the wall as my eyes fall upon Zach and Terry who are once again fighting, now over who weighs more. Zach – who could not be considered overly tall – certainly towered over Terry who probably just grazed the five foot line, but maintained a bean pole thin figure. I rolled my eyes. _Another stickboy . . . _However my money was on Terry, who was curvaceously slim and athletically slight.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

I look over at another pair – I struggled to remember their names – Ryan and Angela, who had now come up to me with a look of utmost concern upon their faces.

"For our first exercise will we need to know about the background of our partner?" Angela asked, tucking a long strand of wavy red hair behind her ear. "And how soon will the first exercise begin? And are their teams? Are we competing for points?"

"Slow down, Angela," I said, grinning slightly at the girl's enthusiasm. "We'll meet in about three minutes, split you into teams and all we're going to be doing is trust games. You don't need to know anything about your partner's background yet – but I do suggest you take some time soon and find out a little bit about them. As for right now, just trust games." I smile encouragingly at the pair who seems to be mentally noting everything I'm saying and storing it in their minds.

I watched my half of the room for a few seconds more before walking over to Harm. "You ready?"

"Yup," Harm nodded. "Okay, everyone! Ladies and gentlemen, quiet please!" The room deadened. "Okay, um, everyone gather around, those of you who were on the right side of the room – my side – you are team A and I am your leader. All of you on Mac's – Colonel Mackenzie's – side of the room, you are Team B. Now, this is just the first round – there is no real winner or loser – this is all about COMPATABILITY!"

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register how impressed I am with Harm's teaching skills. He's speaking, people are listening, and they all actually seem to be LEARNING. _But, of course, if I'd had him as a teacher, I don't know how I would have been able to pay attention . . . _my god, STOP WITH THE INAPPROPRIATE THINKING!

Harm finished the speech I had long since lost track of. "Now, are there any questions?"

A boy in the corner's hand flew up.

"Yes," Harm said, pointing at the boy.

"Hi, okay – um, small thing. I was wondering, are our teams going to have names or are they just going to be Team A and Team B?" the boy asked, suggesting what proved to be a valid point.

Harm and I stared at each other for a minute before I said, "No, my team – Team B – we're now officially the Marines. As for Harm – _Captain Rabb's_ team, you are now the Navy! Consider this the first round of Squid versus Jarhead."

A murmur broke out almost instantly dampened by Harm's overpowering voice, "And now, if you'll split apart into your two teams – please decide on an order in which the pairs will appear in – alternating between Marines and Navy while the Colonel and I make a scoreboard. Any questions?"

Another hand flew up. "How will we be marked?"

Harm sends me a questioning look to which I immediately respond, "we'll be marking you out of five on how well you do with the task. Point will be totaled for each team."

Another hand. "And what's our task?"

Harm grinned. "The Colonel and I have decided to start you off with something simple. I do believe you're all familiar with the trust game where one person falls back and the other catches? Now, find out an order!"

With that command, the two teams split apart and began whispering hurriedly to one another as Harm and I went to the fold out chalkboard and began to draw up a scoreboard. Harm grinned at me, "who said teaching wasn't easy?"

"Cool it, hotshot," I warned him. "You've been "teaching" for only ten minutes and this lesson's an hour. Besides, aren't you forgetting our explosive beginning?"

Harm shrugged, "Call it an exciting beginning to a course." I glared at him. "Hey," he argued. "If my professors had done what we just did before Science class or Physics, I'd be making six digits a year in the comfort of my own lab as a rocket scientist."

"And what exactly did _we just do?" _I stretched, ignoring the last part of his statement.

Harm avoided the question. "Hey, I'm just trying to get them excited about the law."

"And dropping me was the way to do it?"

"Hey," Harm argued, "That's not fair. You distracted me."

"How did I distract you?" I rebutted. "I was ON TOP of you."

"Checking your email!" Harm exclaimed incredulously.

"Well, it's not my fault that Harriet chose that particular moment to –" and it was then that the surrounding silence of the classroom began to dawn on me. I looked around the room and caught Zach and Terry looking at me and Harm sort of funny. "Sorry, class," I apologized, grinning slightly. "Now, for our first team . . . well, ladies first, so Harm," I added smirking, "why doesn't your team go?"

"Funny, jarhead," Harm replied to me sarcastically, and then at the class, "Okay, Navy – first pair up."

One tall dark haired boy and a only slightly smaller fair-haired girl came up, looking nervous but prepped at the same time. Looking down at the ground, they moved to where Harm had taped the lines for catcher and faller.

"Okay, names," Harm said, pulling out his attendance clipboard which he had already marked with Ms and Ns for Marines and Navy.

"Dean Liter and Natalie Pearson," Dean said, as he loosened his arms and shoulders while his partner did a little stretching. I internally smiled as I realized how serious the whole class took these little prepping exercises.

Harm checked their names down on his clipboard and then with a nod of his head, he said, "Okay, you can go."

Natalie closed her eyes and took a long breath in before tipping slightly backwards, her feet not allowed past the blue taped line. And then, she rocked backwards, falling into Dean's outstretched arms as her feet fell backwards as well. Dean pulled her up to the ground and then they switched places. This time around it went much more smoothly. Dean, who was obviously more confident, fell backwards with ease and Natalie obviously enjoyed catching more.

Harm and I compared scores and then pronounced a four out of five which seemed to delight the Navy very much. And soon the night began to wear on as pairs completed the exercise, points began to collect until we were down to the very last pair.

"Alright, marines!" I crowed as the excitement within the class grew to anxious anticipation. "That Navy's at 43 and we're at 40. We need a 4 to win and a three to tie." I looked down at the determined eyes of my group. "But do we want to tie?"

"No!" ten voices barked at me.

"What do we want to do?" I grinned, feeling like a gym coach prepping his team before the big game.

"Win!" I was hollered at.

"Okay, then, our last pair – Zach and Terry," I said, as they came up to the center floor, Terry taking her position on the blue fall back taped line and Zach on the catch line. The cheers on the marines side were not a fraction dampened by the boos from the Navy.

"Alright," Harm marked on his clipboard. "Go."

And with an utter stroke of confidence, Terry threw herself backwards and soared . . . right through Zach's arms. Terry crashed to the floor, her hand flinging out and grabbing onto Zach's as she pulled him down to the ground with her, ramming hard against the wooden floor as Zach sailed on top of her.

Harm and I hastened over to the pair but were met by Terry's screaming of, "WHY DIDN'T YOU CATCH ME?"

"I WASN'T READY!" Zach hollered as he struggled to get up off the floor, pushing himself off Terry's shoulders to do so. Terry pulled him right back down by the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"YOU HEARD HIM SAY GO!" Terry screamed at him. "DID YOU THINK IT WAS AT THAT MOMENT YOU COULD DAYDREAM?"

I flashed Harm a look that clearly asked, 'shouldn't we break this up?' but he returned it with a 'we better leave it alone for the moment' one that I was rather more inclined to agree with.

"WELL, MAYBE INSTEAD OF THROWING YOURSELF BACKWARDS YOU COULD BE NORMAL AND JUST FALL!" Zach screamed back, pulling himself to his feet as Terry did likewise. "You're costing us the round!"

"NO!" Terry's voice overpowers him. "YOU'RE costing us the round."

"Hey, guys!" Harm called from the corner. "Here's a thought: the round's not over yet!"

"Yeah, come on, Marines," I called from my side. "Pick yourselves up and let's win this thing!"

Zach straightened his t-shirt and walked to the falling line while Terry stood at the catching line. "See, this is what you're supposed to do," Zach lectured as he stretched his arms. "Call out to your partner. Are you ready, Ter?"

"Ready as ever," Terry bit back.

Zach fell backwards gracefully – his arms flying out cross-wise in front of him just as Terry leaped backwards, resulting in him plummeting hard towards the floor. The resounding crash rocked the room.

Terry chose this moment to gracefully leap on Zach, pinning him under her legs. "That's for dropping me, you jerk!" And then she leaped off him, marching right back to the Marine side.

I sighed heavily. "And the Navy win."

This statement was met with enthusiastic calls from the right side of the room as Harm marked round one with a large inked N, grinning wildly at me as he did so. I rolled my eyes, "Thanks for coming, everyone. We'll meet tomorrow also at 1900 in this room. Please do not be late and –" my eyes catch Zach's and Terry's, "for those groups who think they need a little extra practice time should see that they get it before tomorrow's round. Good night!"

I rubbed my temples in exhaustion as all the students filed out of the room, leaving Harm and I alone with the stacks of chairs and tables to be put back in their proper place.

"Well, that was a hectic night," I remarked as Harm folded back the scoreboard blackboard and started on the chair pile and I moved to help him.

Harm shrugged. "It wasn't so bad . . . in fact," he said considerately, "I don't really mind teaching."

"Oh, you don't mind it _today_," I said, rolling my eyes as I picked up one side of the table and harm lifted the other. "You WON today, but tomorrow . . . you aren't going to be feeling nearly as good about yourself."

"Hey," Harm said shrugging as we steered the desk back in place. "It's not my fault your team isn't proving worthy competition to mine."

I glared at him. "Hey, we would have won if . . ."

"You would have won if it weren't for Zach and Terry," Harm grinned, as we put the table down. "Your own special dream team."

"Hey, they'll come around," I fought stubbornly. "They have it . . . you know? The makings. They're outgoing, they're bold without a hint of nervousness, both determined to succeed . . ." I sighed. "Yet they're just so . . . troublesome!" I shot Harm an exasperated look. "Their personalities say they'd work well together – and yet they're . . . exactly the opposite."

"Oh well, give them time," Harm said soothingly. "Maybe they just need to come around."

"Sure," I muttered under my breath. "But come around to what?"

Harm grinned, "you know, that little Terry kind of reminds me of you."

"Really?" I looked up at him. "Because Zach kind of reminds me of you."

Harm drops our table in midway of transportation, staring at me with an offended look upon his face. "You'd associate that arrogant little twerp with me!"

I grinned in retaliation. "Arrogant he may be – but he holds the boyish charm." I glared at Harm warningly. "He's troublesome, he's confident, and a tad overzealous. Plus," I added with a pout, "he causes Macs and Terrys everywhere trouble."

"Yeah, well, Mac's and Terrys are overrated," Harm replied with an insulting grin. "They just boss us sailors around."

"And what a good job we do of it too," I added with a smile. "Besides, you should be grateful to us."

"Oh, yeah?" Harm remarked, his eyebrow cocking up. "How so?"

"Well," I replied, picking up another chair off the stack and returning it to its place. "You would be out of a job if it weren't for us."

Harm stares at me. "Enlighten me."

I grinned at him. "You'd be resigning your commission every other week if it wasn't for us."

Harm rolled his eyes. "Oh, funny . . ."

I shrugged. "I thought it was."

Harm stared at me exasperatedly. "Let's go, Marine."

He shut off the lights to the room, leading me by my arm through the halls. And we're about half the way out before –

CRASH!

I flip around, staring into the darkness that is our hallways, my hand suddenly clenching on Harm's. Through the dim obscurity that is my vision, I can see Harm's features as though etched in stone as he tightens his grip on my arm.

"What was that?" I whispered but Harm lifted a finger to my lips to signal for silence. We paused a long moment, stillness vibrating loudly within the room, as our eyes dart from shadow to shadow.

"I don't know," Harm trailed. "But I think we should find out."

"Um, how about we not?" I asked, my voice was unusually high. I mean, it's not like I hadn't been in scary situations before. Of course I had. Terrifying, actually. And if history told me anything, I did NOT need to repeat these scenarios again. Seriously. I do not do scared. "Yeah, let's just skip the whole night time investigation and go have dinner, huh?"

"Shh," Harm silenced me. "Wait here."

I'm instantly alert. "Oh, no way. The person that gets left behind is ALWAYS the one that gets eaten first. Basic rule of horror movies. Have you ever seen a thriller horror movie that DIDN'T have the watch guard getting murdered? Oh yeah, they're always found with like blood oozing out of their skulls or their brain matter sprayed across the walls or something ungodly like . . ."

"Alright, I get the point," Harm cut me off, and I sensed the roll in his eyes as he spoke. "Just stay right next to me and be quiet."

Slowly, we crept down the hall, our eyes open and our ears alert. Our breath hung in the air as we edged along the walls, my eyes always keeping Harm in front of me. And then –

CRASH!

I gripped hard against Harm's shoulder as a clatter resounded from the door across the hall. I sent Harm a panicked stare as he edged towards the door, slowly and intently, his arm reaching forward for the door knob. I closed my eyes, clenching my fist hard against the sleeve of Harm's shirt, as the magnitude of this moment built up into one stimulating –

Harm threw the door open, bounding inside as I flew in with him – a scream cutting the night air, as it hollowly echoed through the empty office.

* * *

**A/N: Yaaaaay, finally a cliffie in this story! Good god, bout time there was some sorta drive. Anyways . . . okay, so results of the last poll. 15 – 0 in favor of a Roberts girl. So, since you're all for the whole girl power thing, you guys thinking of any names?**


	17. Bat, My Ass

**A/N: I seriously think we should start a countdown here. Four chapters to go before I can WRITE.**

_**Flashback to 'Squid vs. Jarhead'**_

_**(Mac's POV)**_

_I gripped hard against Harm's shoulder as a clatter resounded from the door across the hall. I sent Harm a panicked stare as he edged towards the door, slowly and intently, his arm reaching forward for the door knob. I closed my eyes, clenching my fist hard against the sleeve of Harm's shirt, as the magnitude of this moment built up into one stimulating –_

_Harm threw the door open, bounding inside as I flew in with him – a scream cutting the night air, as it hollowly echoed through the empty office._

**Bat, my ass**

**0812**

**JAG Closet**

**Harm's POV**

"Ah! Get it off me! GET IT OFF ME!" I holler, thrashing about wildly as I slam myself into one of the metal shelves built into the walls. My hands flail about my head madly, as I swipe dangerously into the air, connecting with something small hairy and flying.

"It's alright, Harm!" Mac hollers over the ruckus I'm creating. "It's just a bat!"

"GET IT OFF!" I scream myself hoarse as it begins to pick at my hair that's already too short to protect my head from demented flying creatures. Mac begins to swat the air around me as these unearthly screeches now ensue from the bat's mouth, echoing around the cramped room.

"HOW!" Mac hollered.

"HIT IT!" I screech.

"Harm, you're over six feet tall! I can't take it off your head!"

Her practicality does nothing for me. I thrash around madly as his claws dig into my scalp. "Open the door!" I scream shrilly. "It's eating me alive!"

There's rattling as Mac jiggles the doorknob. "Dammit, Harm, it's locked!"

I swore loudly, running through the darkness that clouded my vision over to the door. I pounded against the overgrown wooden plank that separated me and Mac from bat-free area. I'm pounding, I'm hollering, and the bat has freaking landed on my HEAD. And the irony of it all? I'M the one that suggested to investigate the freaking supply closet, Mac wanted to go to dinner and instead we're trapped in a closet with a BAT and she's looking AMUSED! WHAT PLANET ARE WE LIVING ON?

"Harm, calm down," Mac says soothingly. "It's just a bat."

"Bat, my ass," I snarl pounding on the door. "SOMEONE else has to be in the building!"

"Harm, it's EIGHT O'CLOCK!" Mac hollers in my ear. "WE'RE not even supposed to be in the building!"

"Hell will freeze over before I spend a night with a bat and a marine in a close!" I replied, shoving against the door with his shoulder and elbow jutted out, my face a mask of frustration. I slammed my body against the door, immediately succumbing to the sharp pain that now stabbed across one side of my body.

"You've offended me and Mr. Pip right to our very cores," Mac replied, sitting down on the floor, her arms crossed across her chest as she watched me push myself against the door.

I pause in mid-shove. "Mr. Pip?" I stare at her as if she's lost her mind. "What the hell is a Mr. Pip?"

"The _bat," _Mac says with a tone that suggests this is the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought, if we're going to spend the night together the least I could do is find out his name . . ."

I look at her incredulously. "How can you joke at a time like this?"

"Who says I'm joking?" _My god, she's completely serious. _"It's a Pipistrelle bat. And you know, maybe if you get to know him, Harm, you'll like him." She shakes her head discouragingly. "You judged him before you even met him . . . shame on you."

But I've toned her out. "There's a broom," I said, pointing at the long wooden pole next to Mac.

She stares at it and then me. "Planning on calling up Harry Potter to fly us out of here, Harm, or just do a little bit of sweeping?"

"Good-bye, Mr. Pip!" I hollered, grabbing the broomstick and beginning to flail it madly in the air, swiping at Mr. Pip as he screeched in alarm, swooping down low as he flitted by our heads. I jump up, swinging the broomstick back and forth in the air, as Mr. Pip managed to dodge ever yone of them. "Say your prayers, Bat!"

"Harm, don't!" Mac screamed at me as I leaped into the air, samurai-style brandishing my latest weapon. "You'll hurt him!"

"Uh, Mac!" I holler as I knight-like brandish my wooden sword and plunge into a deep swipe at Sir Pipistrelle. "That's kind of the point!"

Next thing I know Mac's hands are on the broom stick and she's pulling it AWAY from me. I mean, who does she think she is? Does she think she can just get locked in a closet with me and a bat that she NAMES and prevent me from carrying out my masculine duties of defending the women and killing the predator? I swing the stick around but Mac holds on, swinging with the stick as I twirl around almost ballerina style – dragging one unhappy Marine with me.

"LET GO!" she hollers, tugging the broomstick back and jolting my arms with it.

"Over my dead body!" I scream back, pulling the broom stick up. Mac's now literally hanging off it, her feet no longer touch the ground. "Or should I say . . . MR. PIP'S dead body!"

She's shocked. "That was uncalled for!"

"It's a BAT, Mac!" I holler, the practicality flying in front of us. "We are TRAPPED in a CLOSET with a BAT!"

_WHY THE HELL DOES SHE NOT FIND THIS AS ALARMING AS I OBVIOUSLY DO!_

"Harm, it's a poor innocent defenseless bat!" Mac screamed back. "You can't hurt it! Think about your conscience! How will you be able to sleep at night if you kill Mr. Pip? He's never done a thing to you!"

"Thanks to him I'm going to need a haircut," I growled, throwing tufts of torn out hair at Mac who promptly shoved them away. "ANOTHER haircut – my hair still hasn't recovered from the gum induced cut."

"Oh, you'll live," Mac snapped. "But Mr. Pip won't if you keep swinging around like that!"

"Like this?" I challenged, and then – straining all my muscles against Mac's spectacular force, I throw the broomstick up, the wooden pole flying out of both Mac's and my grasp. And for a minute time ceases to exist. Our heads crane up to the sky as we watch the broomstick arc almost acrobatically in the air and sore towards . . . the window?

CRASH!

Glass shatters over the floor and above our heads as I grab onto the back of Mac's head, pulling her away from direct impact against the shards. We sit there for a moment, kneeling against the floor with our backs turned to the now broken and open window – Mr. Pip promptly taking this as his cue to exit.

"Hey, Flyboy," Mac said from beside me, her face now completely visible due to the flow of moonlight seeping in from the window. "Your knee's in my stomach."

"My knee's no where near your stomach."

She jumps away about a foot as I laugh, "Just kidding."

Mac scowled in retaliation as I pick myself up off the floor and shake off all the loose shards that had nestled their way into my clothing. "Okay, here's the plan," I begin but Mac cuts me off.

"Before you get started, does this plan involve you swinging a stick around our heads because if that's the case, I'm out," Mac said, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes smiling.

"Cute, Mackenzie, real cute," I rolled my eyes. "Now, get on."

Mac can only stare at me, her eyebrow cocked up to the sky as she did so. "Harm, we could be discovered at any moment . . ." She looks around the room, "and it's kind of cramped."

I stare at her in aggravation as I kneeled down on the floor and cupped my hands out. "Very funny, but I'm going to give you a leg up, you reach the window, and then pull me up behind you. And then we're out."

"On the roof."

I scowl at her. "Do you want to be stuck in here till morning?"

Mac sighs, leaning her arms against my shoulders while stepping carefully into my hands, "Good point. Now boost me."

I grin as I suddenly lift her up, one arm snaking around her waist as the other still pulls her from under her feet. I watch as Mac fervently tries to grab hold of the window sill, her fingers straining as she catches onto the rough wooden edge. I release my hold from under her feat as I gently ease her body up, her hands scratching against the surface of the wall.

"Harm, your hand's on my six," Mac growled from above me, shifting in position. "And is riding very high."

I flash her a guilty grin. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Mac said, pulling herself up a few more inches. "Just move it."

I obeyed quickly. "You got your footing?"

"Uh huh."

"Should I let go?"

"This would be the opportune moment," Mac retorted as I slowly removed my hands, she managing to flip herself almost acrobatically onto the sill.

"Alright, my turn," I said, stretching my arms out vertically towards her.

Mac just stared at me. "What are you doing?"

"You've got to pull me up with you," I said, extending my hands once more. "Come on . . ."

Mac looks at me incredulously. "Harm, I can't pull you up! You're heavier than me, and I'll end up falling off the sill!"

"I'm not THAT much heavier . . ." I argued pitifully. Mac just lifts an eyebrow. "Well, then what are you going to do? Just leave me?"

"Yes," Mac replied briskly. "I'm going to go through the window, get off the roof, enter the building and unlock the door."

"That takes too long," I complained. "Just pull me up now."

Mac sighs in exasperation, reaching down and slipping her hands into mine. "How much do you weigh, anyway?"

"Red light."

"There was nothing sexual in what I said," Mac bit back in easy retaliation. "I want to know what brute force I'm dealing with before I attempt to pull it through a window."

"Little enough for you to manage," I replied, rolling my eyes as I felt Mac grip my hands hard. "That is . . . if you've got any muscle in that body of yours."

Mac wrenches me up, grimacing as she does so. I stretch my legs out to perhaps catch some footing on the wall but I only end up slipping. I lean forward but that doesn't seem to help the situation any. "You lie like a dog . . ." Mac snarled as she pulled me up, my feet now an inch off the ground, "you're not light."

"Just pull," I muttered back, pulling her arms forward so I could get a better grip. "If I just swing this way . . ."

"Harm . . ."

"Yeah, and I put my foot up here," I muttered as I leaned more, my foot stamping hard against the wall as I pulled on Mac's arms a little more.

"Harm . . ."

"And if I just . . ." I began, pulling Mac forward as I tried to grip on harder, "then you can pull me up onto the . . ."

"HARM!"

Mac falls forward, her hands shooting out before her to grab onto something . . . apparently that something is me. Her legs flail out as she tumbles off the window sill, her body crashing against mine and sending us both for what seems to be the hundredth time to the ground. Her arm grabs onto my shoulder sending me spinning into the paved floor, her legs entangling on mine. Our heads bash against each other as Mac tumbles onto me, her elbows digging into my stomach.

"Dammit!"

As Mac reels off into a string of swear words that can only be compared to that of sailors who haven't seen port in months, the door flies open, and through the obscurity that is now my very painfully clouded vision, I can see the shadows of two young adults, both smirking rather obnoxiously. Oh shit.

I leap up to my feet and hit my head on a metal cabinet. "Mother of F –" I begin but my voice is instantly dampened by –

"Taron, Connors, what the hell are you doing here?" Mac gasps painfully as she struggled to her feet.

Zach's smirking too much to respond, but Terry – obviously the quicker thinker of the two – hastens to their defense. "We were outside in the courtyard going over stuff for tomorrow when we heard screaming and thumping . . ."

I roll my eyes, "where were you fifteen minutes ago?"

Zach's still grinning.

"Oh for god's sake, wipe that smirk off your face," Mac snarled. She turned back to Terry, "mind letting us out of the closet?"

"Oh, no problem," Zach said, immediately leaping out of the way. "I think it's good you're coming out of the closet." He casts a wary eye at Mac's and my disheveled appearance. "Though I'm having a hard time believing it . . ."

Mac opens her mouth to reply but Terry beats her to the punch. "Stuff it, Blondie." She turned back to us, "We'll get out of your way . . ." She grabs him by the tie and pulls him down the hall, "see you tomorrow!"

I sigh heavily, leaning against the doorframe, a pained expression etched into my face. "As much as I like you, Harm, these little visits are going to cost me a fortune in hospital bills." I groaned a little as I straightened myself, "and my reputation's taking a steep nose-dive, I hope you know."

"They're just kids, Mac . . ." I trailed but am cut off by her stern glare. I shrug my shoulders, "What harm can they do us?"

"They're kids, Harm," Mac rebuts as we begin to walk down the hall. "They don't need to do us harm, just annoy us to death . . ."

I grins in retaliation, "But what a first impression we must have given them, huh? Little action before class, and then after . . ."

"Red light!" Mac exclaims, suddenly stopping in her tracks.

I grinned at her, "And this coming from the lady that said 'aren't we past the point where we need traffic signals?'"

Mac rolls her eyes furiously at me and begins to walk off down the hall. I smiled at her, standing in my place. "Hey, Mac!"

She turns around, "Yeah?"

I flashed her the flyboy grin. "You're blushing."

"Shut up."

* * *

**A/N: Damn polls . . . do they always have to be different? I suppose it would be a little boring if they were all the same. Soooo, until i come up with some more polls, feel free to vote on any of my previous polls. Maybe your answers have changed. You can rate Harm and Mac scenes, how much you hate Pants. You can offer suggestions for future HM scenes, for plot details. Vote on the Roberts kid's name, the gender. Whatever you feel like doing. **


	18. Sexy as Sin

**A/N: Sorry for the stalling updates. Won't happen again. Or well, it probably will, but I'll try my best not to let it happen. Four more chapters to go . . .**

**Sexy as Sin**

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Daniel Wallace (daniel(dot)wallace(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Mel Gibson (mel(dot)gibson(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Linda straugh (linda(dot)straugh(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Kyle Millek (kyle(dot)millek(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com) **

**From: Your Systems Administrator (your(dot)systems(dot)administrator(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: The JAG Partnership Building Program**

Please note that the following is an automated message:

Dear Leaders of the annual JAG Partnership Building Program,

We at the System's Administration are pleased to inform you that the first round of Partnership Building Competitions will begin on Saturday at exactly 1400. Teams are expected to have even amounts of students for two person pairings, and also being able to retain personal knowledge about each other.

Note: if you feel that this message was mistakenly sent to your address, please e-mail us at (your(dot)systems(dot)administrative(dot)error(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

If for some reason your team will be unable to attend please contact us at (your(dot)systems(dot)administrative(dot)scheduling(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

If you have any questions concerning the tournament please contact us at (your(dot)systems(dot)administrative(dot)questions(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Your Systems Administrator,

Patricia Hennerly

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com),**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Tonight**

Hey,

Okay, first round starts on Saturday so I think we should really start shaping up our team. What do you say . . . this afternoon? My place? We can work out our activities . . .

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Tonight**

Sure, I've just got to have dinner with Harriet and then I'll come over to your place, okay? She said something this morning about asking me for a favor or something like that . . . I don't know.

Oh, okay, the Admiral's staring at us . . . gonna stop typing now . . .

Mac

P.S: that Patricia Hennerly sounds like a wart.

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com),**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Tonight**

Yeah, Bud needs to speak to me too . . . you think we're having dinner together? Like, the four of us?

Harm

P.S: You've never even met Patricia Hennerly.

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Tonight**

I've heard about her. She's JAG's version of Satan.

Mac

P.S: I swear the Admiral's looking this way. We're supposed to be LISTENING to this seminar. Quit typing!

* * *

**To: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Harm and Mac**

Do you want to chew them out or should I?

AJ

* * *

**To: AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harm and Mac**

I don't know . . . who did it last time?

Gordon

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com),**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Tonight**

How very hypocritical of you. You tell me to quit typing and yet you type this! And I'm sure Patricia Hennerly's a very nice woman. I mean, she's a JAG.

Harm

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Tonight**

That theory means squat. Singer was a JAG.

Mac

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com) **

**From: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Filing**

Well, seeing as you two fine officers' knowledge seem to go above and beyond that which is being expressed in this seminar, care to tell me the solution to mixed mass file managing?

General Cresswell

* * *

**To: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Filing**

Harriet?

* * *

**To: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com) **

**Re: Filing **

Harriet?

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com) **

**From: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Filing**

Pay attention! Honestly, two-year olds probably have a wider attention-span than the two of you! And I look forward to seeing the team you two have put together on Saturday.

Gordon Cresswell

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: chewed out**

Awwwww, Harm and Mac just got chewed out by the General! THAT'S SO CUTE.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: chewed out**

And we'll be chewed out too if you don't stop typ –

* * *

**To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)cresswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: ATTENTION**

What do I have to do to get RESPECT around here? We've got an informal seminar on mixed file managing going on here and the only one that seems to be paying attention around here is your wife, and she's not even A SENIOR OFFICER!

General Cresswell

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Quit it**

Quit smiling . . . and stop reading my email over my shoulder!

* * *

**Later that night**

**Courtroom 4**

**Harm's POV**

"Forward, forward, just forward a little more . . . no Zach stop! Stop mov– !"

CRASH!

Zach ripped the blindfold off of his eyes. "What the hell, Connors?"

"Keep your voice down, Taron," Mac admonished as one by one the other students began to pull off their blindfolds to see what Zach and Terry were doing now. I contained a grin. In a matter of two classes, the team of Taron and Connors were already the stars, and not in a good way.

"Hey, here's a novel idea, Zach!" Terry crows. "When I say stop, you ACTUALLY STOP."

This is the third activity of the night was one which consisted of scattering random objects across the floor, and then blindfolding one partner while the other lead the blindfolded across the room with their voice. If the blindfolded partner touched one of the objects, it was the equivalent of touching a landmine and exploding.

"Alright, you two, there will be other exercises," I said, smirking at Mac who rolled her eyes exhaustedly. I bet she's wishing she never took on Zach and Terry.

"But not tonight," Mac finished. Her eyes meet mine and she mouths 'dinner', and I nod. "Navy wins again. Now, you guys can gather up your things and class is again, tomorrow."

"Don't forget, Saturday's our first competitive round!" I called as everyone began to pick up their book bags. "Zach, Terry, can you stay behind for a few minutes?" I asked.

Obligingly they hung back. I stared at them, a smile tugging at my lips. Terry looked surprisingly apprehensive, and even Zach's calm exterior was wearing down. I bit back a smile, "We want you to do the course again."

Terry sighed exasperatedly. "But, Captain, we never get it RIGHT!"

"Gee, I wonder why?" Zach snarled sarcastically.

"Okay, okay, you've proved your profound hatred for each other," Mac said, rolling her eyes. "But that doesn't stop you from trusting one another. Look at H – the Captain and I. Partnership exercises like these have saved our lives many times."

Terry looked up at Mac, her bright blue eyes shining quizzically. "You have to do these in JAG?"

Mac falters slightly. "Well . . . I mean, no, but if we hadn't learned to trust each other, we might not even be here today. Exercises like these are meant to challenge you to be able to form a trustable bond, a bond you can depend on."

"I don't want any kind of bond with HER," Zach sneered.

"Shut up, Taron," I said, saving Mac and Terry the trouble. Zach glared at me, but said nothing.

"How many times do we have to do this?" Terry asked.

My eyes connected with Mac's as a wicked smile appears on her lips. "However many times it takes you to beat us," Mac grinned.

To say I'm windblown is an understatement.

"What?" Zach voices my thoughts.

"YOU," Mac narrated, gesturing at him and Terry, "have to beat US." She pointed at me and her. "Okay?"

Zach grins. "Piece of cake."

"Shut up, Taron," Terry muttered, passing him the blindfold.

"We'll pound you to the ground, Zach," I smirked at the boy.

"Shut up, Harm," Mac rolled her eyes, throwing me the blindfold. "You can go first."

"Why?" I find myself whining as Zach asks the exact same thing. We're both rewarded with a punch to our shoulders. _God, Mac and Terry are so much alike . . ._

_

* * *

_

**Same Time**

**Same Place**

**Mac's POV**

_God, Harm and Zach are so much alike . . . _I find myself grinning as Harm slips the blindfold over his eyes. I can tell Terry's thinking the same time because this very wild smile has come over her as she watches Zach do the same thing, and I wonder what she REALLY thought of Zach. Because I knew that as many times as I pretended to hate Harm, I didn't really, but then again Terry gave a VERY realistic impression of anger, so maybe she really did hate Zach. Or maybe she'll come around.

"Okay, you ready, Harm?" I asked, turning Harm around to face "the minefield".

"Ready as ever," Harm said with what I can imagine was a grin. He rolls his shoulders as Zach swings his arms back and forth as he "loosens his joints". Terry rolls her eyes.

"Alright . . ." I trailed, staring at my watch, "Go!"

Harm immediately begins to move forward as does Zach. "Uh . . . stop, Harm, stop!" Harm pauses in mid-step. "Okay, um, turn to your left . . . yeah, that's it . . . keep walking . . ." I trailed, standing behind Harm as I maneuvered myself over the objects, my eyes never leaving Harm's path. "Stop! Stop! Stop! Okay, yeah, uh . . . good, just, turn to your right . . . that's it . . ."

Meanwhile Terry's issuing similar instructions to Zach. And it's kind of funny. In front of the class, Zach and Terry looked like disasters but Zach's actually AHEAD of Harm in the minefield so that could only really mean two things . . . either they work together better after class, or Harm and I just plain stink.

"That's right, Harm, just keep going . . . yeah, no – turn to the right . . . keep going . . ." I trail and then –

"Uh, ma'am?"

I whirl around. "Vukovic?"

"What?" Harm cries from behind me, spinning around, the blindfold still secure over his eyes. "Vuko –"

From beside me I hear a sharp intake of breath as Terry sets her eyes on Vukovic, Zach momentarily forgotten. "Damn, he's sexy as sin . . ."

"What?" comes a startled comment from Zach, turning around so fast he and Harm collided.

CRASH!

Vukovic, Terry, and I all simultaneously whirl around to see Harm and Zach on the floor, struggling to get up but slipping on the objects strewn on the floor.

"Sir . . .?" Vukovic trails, walking forward with his arm out to pull Harm up.

"Wait, watch ou – !" I begin but –

Vukovic's foot hits the book that Harm had put in the center of the room and trips over it. His arm lunges out to grab anything or anyone to hold onto. That anyone or anything is me. He pulls me crashing down on top of him, who's on top of Zach, who ultimately is on top of Harm.

"What the hell?" Harm calls pitifully from the bottom of the pile. I keep forgetting he's blindfolded.

"Excuse me?"

My eyes leap up to see the General and the Admiral standing in the doorway, their arms crossed over each other, traces of amusement burying themselves in their cross frowns. "What's going on here?"

Vukovic and I leap off of Harm and Zach as though electrocute. "Sir?" I began but the General crosses me.

"Captain, get off the floor!"

"Yes, sir!" Harm barks, scrambling up but only tripping on a rubber ducky we'd borrowed from Jimmy and falling back down to the floor again and landing on Zach once more. Terry's covering her mouth with her hand in attempts to stifle her giggling. It's not working for her.

Rolling his eyes, the Admiral pulls both Zach and Harm up by the ties. "Of for God's sake, take off the damned blindfolds!"

"Yes, sir!" Harm and Zach both chorus, pulling them off at the same time, their hair ruffled beyond any form of combing recognition.

The Admiral stares amusedly at the two of them. He points at Zach, "I take it you're a student?" Zach nods and the Admiral smiles even more wickedly. "Where are the rest of them?"

"They were already dismissed," I said quickly, hoping to end this awkward moment as swiftly as possible.

"Yet these to remain . . .?" the General quizzed and then suddenly smirked. "Your star team, huh? In for a little extra training? Well then," he said, "I'll enjoy seeing you two in the Champions round on Saturday."

"Oh no," Harm begins but the Admiral cuts him off.

"Oh yes, you two look like the makings of a winning team," the Admiral beams. "First place, I can imagine."

"You don't understand, sir," I try and explain but the General just simply grins.

"Yes, well, we just wanted to check in with you," the General said. "I'll see you two tomorrow," he said to Harm and I, "and I'll be seeing you two in the winner's circle," he grinned at Terry and Zach. "Have a good night."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Same Place**

**No POV**

Admiral AJ Chegwidden chortled goodnaturedly. "They must be goddamn _terrible_ if Harm and Mac are making them stay after class."

General Gordon Cresswell grinned from beside him, "Undoubtedly the worst."

AJ sighed, "And considering it's Harm and Mac that feel that way, it's definitely something."

Cresswell paused in mid-step. "Did you notice how much alike those two were to the Captain and the Colonel?"

AJ smiled wickedly. "I've been waiting for the day when Harm and Mac would come up against what I had to deal with."

"And what I deal with now," the General finished, as evil laughter resounded through the JAG Courthouse halls.

* * *

**20 Minutes Later**

**China Garden Restaurant**

**Harm's POV**

"So what's this about, Harriet?" I asked good-naturedly from across the table as we put down our menus, having already decided on what to order. "What's with all the secrecy?"

Harriet shifted in her seat. "Well, Harm, we were sort of wondering . . . um, considering the fact that we're pregnant," she turned swiftly to look at Bud, "again, we thought we might need a little time . . . um, just to ourselves, and we can't really have that with the kids so . . . uh . . ."

"We were sort of wondering if you and the Colonel could tag team and baby sit the kids for the weekend," Bud finished. "I mean, it's only two days . . ."

* * *

**A/N: Seriously, guys. 3 more chapters to post and i get to start writing again. yeyah. **


	19. Cat in Critical Condition

**A/N: As of Sunday, i'll be away for like 12 days. I'll try and post another chapter before I go, though. **

**Cat in Critical Condition**

**2116**

**Harm's Apartment**

**Harm's POV**

"You don't need to be a poet to be profound," Mac said, elbowingme in the ribs slightly. Well, it's nine o'clock on a Friday night, we've just come back from another class of the PBP – Navy wins again (I'm pretty sure Mac's beating herself for ever putting Zach and Terry on a team together) and now, like the sad people that we are, we are resting on my couch watching CSI reruns and – true to our nature – arguing.

"And you don't need to be profound if you're a poet,"I bit back easily. "But I'm just saying that most of our world's profundity comes from poets. Or if they weren't poets before, they are now deemed so."

Mac shook herhead, "No, no, Harm, you've got it all wrong . . ."she said smiling at me. "Poets . . . writers . . . they go beyond what we can see, they pull images that are but a blur to us and enlighten them before our eyes. Their work is no more factual than heaven or hell – they are merely beautiful speculative dreams."

"But there's an underlying factual base," I pressed insistently, the flyboy grin flashing acrossmy face. "You can't just pull any nonsense out of the air – there has to be SOME reason that your mind even thought to wander there in the first place!"

Macsighed exasperatedly. "I'm sure there is! But that doesn't mean that anything they're saying is REAL. Their goal is to get you thinking, thinking about things that we haven't got a prayer of proving."

"Plenty of real life factual stuff can get you thinking,"I argued back, "and it doesn't need to come from the mouth of a supposedly enlightened poet, or a mortal Buddha, or an inspired musician."

Mac shookher head, laughing asI scowled playfully at her. "How did we even get into this anyway?"

Igestured at the TV set where CSI was playing across the screen. "One of 'em quoted someone – at which point you pointed out the depth of said statement."

"Grissom,"she said nodding seriously, "he's the profound one."

"Does that make him a poet?"I challenged. "Because normal people can be deep too, you know."

"I know that, Harm!"she cried in exasperation, "And I don't even see why we're fighting over something so stupid!"

"See, your problem, Mac, is that you put people up on a pedestal," I said lightly, passing her the bowl of popcorn that had sat in between us. "You worship them to the point where Jesus could walk before you and you'd be blind to him."

Mac scoffed indignantly, chucking a kernel of popcorn at him which promptly bounced off his forehead, landed in his hand, and then was immediately popped into his mouth. "I think it's the other way around, Rabb."

"Look, I'm just saying that there are plenty of things you see every day that you could get you going,"I said matter-of-factly, throwing a handful of popcorn into my mouth,my eyes flickering back to the TV.

"What kind of things?"she challenged.

"Like . . ."I trailed, his eyes madly dashing around the room. "Like . . . this coke bottle!"I grabbed the bottle off the table and flipped open the cap. I raised an eyebrow but he ignored my inquisition, sliding that little plastic circle out from under the cap. I flipped it over and read, "The foot is the most common body part to be bitten by insects."

Mac just sat there. "So?"

"Well, there you go!" I replied, throwing the coke bottle at her. "Each coke bottle comes with one fact – one fact that will make you think, that results in careful ponderation . . ."

"There's no such word as ponderation," Mac retorted. "If you mean pondering . . ."

"Oh well, you know what I meant," I said, rolling my eyes. "But the fact is is that they always come up with something that makes you think, and you don't have to be Robert Frost to do that."

"I'm not wondering a single thing about your bitten feat fact!" Mac exclaimed in amusement. "What's there to think about?"

I grinned at her, edging closer to her. "I know you too well, Mackenzie. And I know for a fact that at this very moment you're wondering how the heck the foot gets the most bug bites."

"Well . . ." Mac stared, briefly tongue tied ". . . isn't that where shoes are for?" Mac threw up her hands. "I mean, if you've got 'em, use 'em."

"See," I smiled triumphantly, turning back to the television screen, "the wonders of Coke."

Mac just sat there on the couch, looking far away for a moment and then, "Hey, you got any more Coke bottles?"

I stared at her, trying to catch her objective but not receiving any signal. "Yeah . . . a whole bunch in the recycling, why . . .?" I begin but Mac's already shot off.

She returns with the whole blue bin, unscrewing the first bottle's lid. "I just can't believe that a common every day bottle could contain something that would create the flow of though equivalent to a Robert Frost poem."

I sighed, leaning back in the couch, "Plenty of common things give us inspiration, Mac. I mean, for example, if we were to take a walk down Main Street right now, there's this little Chinese restaurant in the corner called Jai Woo's, upon which at the end of their meals they serve fortune cookies. No matter which one you get, they always make you think."

And for an inescapable instant my mind zooms back to the night of Jennifer's promotion. _Your heart's desire is the road not taken. Take it! _(A/N: Not quite sure on the correct wording there, but the end part's correct, I know that much.)

"Still . . ." Mac murmured, her eyes shifting uneasily around the room. She looks almost lost.

"Poets are just people that are made famous for what they say," I whispered, the proximity between us striking me ever so powerfully in that split second, "but we get inspired by things every day . . . by different people every day . . ." I watch her very carefully. "Just like you."

Her eyes shoot up to meet mine. "Me?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling at her. "You inspired me beyond belief . . . you still do . . ." I trailed, my eyes suddenly cast down, my hand fingering one of the Coke bottle caps. I smirked, "The average person spends two weeks waiting for a traffic light to change . . . talk about wasted time."

Mac's gaze falls heavily upon my shoulders. "Not if they got some good thought out of it," she whispered. My eyes seem to bore holes in her. Mac looks down at her cap, "The average person's hair grows a combined 1,400 meters per month." She rolled her eyes, "Who comes up with this stuff?"

I shrug. "I don't know . . . them."

"Them who?" Mac challenged. "Do they REALLY go around to people and measure each hair on their body, because frankly I find that rather repulsive."

I pick up another cap. "They say the average life span of a major league baseball is seven pitches." I threw the cap back into the recycle bin. "I could have told you that."

Mac rolled her eyes. "_Sure_ you could have."

"Hey, I really could . . ."

"They say the average person has a total of 6 lbs of skin," Mac said, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she threw that cap back in the recycle bin. "That's gross."

I grinned at her, "Not as gross as the fact that they say the body has 2 – 3 million sweat glands."

"Again!" Mac said, throwing her hands up. "Where do they get this stuff?"

"I thought your question was who ARE they?" I said, my eyebrow shooting up but before she could respond, I added, "They say that to have night vision like an owl, you'd need eyes the size of a grapefruit."

"They also say an eyelash lives for about 150 days before it falls out," Mac shakes her head. "This is ridiculous – how do they keep track of these things?"

I looked worried for a second. "Well do we get new eyelashes when the old ones fall out? 'Cause I lost one just yesterday."

Mac rolls her eyes. "Don't be an idiot." She looks back down at her cap. "They say the average 'pouring' speed of Heinz ketchup from the bottle is 0.003 mph."

"They say the biggest brain is that of the sperm whale," I countered, throwing her the cap. "Twenty pounds."

Mac leaned back against the couch. "Well, at least we know how they found that one out." I looked inquisitively at her. "They just cut the brain out of its head and put it on a scale," Mac elaborated.

"And you said the skin one was gross," I muttered, picking up another cap. "They say woodpeckers' heads are filled with air pockets that cushion their head bones."

"And they say top kitchen table bacteria move at a speed of 0.0001 mph." Her eyebrows furrow. "How did they measure that one?"

"Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac," I said, shaking my head. "You keep forgetting 'They' are supernatural all-knowing beings that share wisdom with us through this sugar filled substance that we earthlings know as Coke."

"Ah yes," Mac nodded grinning, "their only form of communication between them and we naïve souls."

She's incredibly close to me. Perilously close, you might say. She's saying more but I've stopped listening. There's this faint drumming echoing in my ears, and I wonder what she'd do at that moment if I kissed her. Which is plain nuts, because there's NOTHING going on between us at the moment . . . probably nothing ever again. I mean, we missed out . . . we could have . . . but we didn't, which is what sets us apart from everyone else. I mean, am I so completely off my rocker? Is it heinous to think that if something - ANYTHING – was to ever happen between me and Mac, it would have already happened? _Please God, just send me a sign . . . _

CRASH!

I whip around to face the kitchen. I can feel Mac beside me stiffen. I'm sure she's remembering the last time this happened, and its results were us stuck in a closet with Mr. Pip. Fun fun fun.

"You don't own an . . . animal, do you, Harm?" Mac asked me quietly.

I shook my head in response, climbing up off the couch and creeping slowly towards the kitchen. I pressed my finger to my lips in gesture of silence. Mac nodded and crawled behind me as though to follow my lead. I placed my hand on the kitchen door, looking at Mac who nodded in return. She was ready.

I flung the door open, the _wooshing_ noise it made ringing in my ears. My eyes scanned the room. The window was broken. Shattered glass scattered the ground. I felt my throat tighten. "Mac . . ." I whispered.

No response.

I whipped around. In the exact spot Mac had been standing five seconds ago there was nothing but air. I became panicked. "Mac!" I hollered as I ran through the kitchen. "MAC!"

"Jesus, Harm, shut up for a minute," came Mac's growl from another room. I flew into my bedroom where Mac now knelt holding what looked like 'It' from the Adam's Family.

"What the hell's that?" I asked, pointing at the furry ginger ball that she held in her arms.

"It's a cat!" Mac exclaimed with the utmost delight. She held the fat ball in her arms, bouncing it up and down as this broken-record-like purring erupted from with the gigantic ginger mass. "Aw, and what a cute cat is!" She faced the fur ball. "Yes, that's right . . . what a pretty kitty you are . . ."

"You've got to be joking," I said bluntly, looking incredulously at what I can only describe as a hairy pumpkin. "The thing's butt ugly."

Mac glares at me, "He's a beauty, you're just too blind to see it."

I'm right next to her now looking down at the fat cat. "I can see beauty, Mac. And that thing's in no way beautiful."

Mac picks up the cat huffily. "Harm, you can't see half of what's right in front of your face." And with that, she leaves me wondering exactly what she meant by that comment . . .

* * *

**Same Time**

**Same Place**

**Mac's POV**

I don't know why I'm angry with him. I mean, I'm not even really. He hasn't done anything, except being his usual Harm self and saying the precise wrong things to a person who over analyzes everything. I set the cat down on the counter and look into his large yellow-green eyes. "Don't care about what mean old Harm says . . . you're the prettiest cat I've ever seen."

"And the biggest, I'll bet," Harm added with a cheeky grin, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. There's just no escaping those big blue eyes of his. He approaches me cautiously, "Hey, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, "You don't have to say sorry to me, say it to Albatross Wallace."

"Albatross Wallace?" Harm's voice sports incredulity. "Albatross like the bird?"

"Yeah, Allie," I said, fondly scratching Albatross's head. "Isn't it a funky name?"

Harm's still looking at me as if I've grown an extra head. "The funkiest."

I cock my head down to Albatross who rests on the counter purring gently under my soft touch. "Go ahead, pet him . . ."

Harm looks pleadingly at me but my eyes are commanding. Harm sighs, his hand inching forward towards Allie and then . . .

Albatross releases an unearthly screech and darts forward, his nails clawing at the counter as he burst forward at full speed, hissing all the while. "Wait, Allie! Stop!" Harm called but it's too late. With a sudden burst of speed, Albatross launches himself into the air from the counter and plunges into . . . Harm's sink?

"Oh, god, Harm, he's going to get stuck in the drain!" I called, rushing forward to the sink which is a mess of bubbles and cat hair, with one very alarmed ginger furball floating in the middle.

"Never mind getting stuck in the drain, he's going to EAT the drain!" Harm cried, plunging his hands into the pool of bubbles and soap that fly through the kitchen. There's this loud hissing as Harm withdraws his hand with a yelp, a cat scratch drawing fresh blood to his hand. "Damn cat!" Harm growled.

"Harm, the chemicals in the dishwasher fluid aren't supposed to be drunk!" I'm beside myself now. "We've got to get him out of there!"

But despite our fervent rescuing techniques, Albatross is thrashing in the sink disabling Harm nor I from picking him up. Cats hate water, that's plain knowledge, but never have I met a cat that acted more like a fish in it. "Dammit, Allie, come here!" I scream, my hands shooting out through the soapy bubbles, clamping themselves against his sides. Albatross Wallace hisses and I feel a sharp claw collide with the raw skin covering my knuckles. I scream, throwing the cat up in the air.

In that one almost time freezing moment, the fattest cat on the face of the earth sails up through the air, his wet paws flying out in front of him as he releases this long unearthly screech. And then . . . he tumbles down to the ground. And guess who he lands on?

"GET EFFING OFF!" Harm's screaming as a wet thirty pound cat clings to the back of his t-shirt, its claws sinking into Harm's back.

"Harm, stop moving!" I'm screaming trying to dislodge Albatross from Harm but failing dismally as Harm dances around the kitchen, screaming and jumping. Allie clings to Harm's back for dear life. "For god's sake, Harm, stop moving or you'll hurt him!"

I'm instantly brought back to last night's scene with Harm and Mr. Pip. God, he just has the worst of luck. Harm reaches down and pulls off his shirt, swinging it lasso-like with an enraged overweight cat attached to the end. For the third time in the last minute Albatross Wallace is sailing through the air, this time attached to one of Harm's various t-shirts and he goes . . . through the window.

"Harm!" I cry in horror as I sprint out onto the balcony, my eyes leaping around in desperate search Allie. "Oh my god, he fell onto the street!"

Instantly Harm and I are dashing down his apartment building looking frantically for any sign of Allie and – I can imagine – attracting quite a deal of attention. Harm's shirtless, and we're both covered in cat scratches and bubbles. "Allie!" I cried in relief as we raced out onto the sidewalk under Harm's balcony. Albatross lies unmoving on the sidewalk. "Harm, you killed him!" I cried in despair.

Harm gets down on his knees and presses his ear to Allie's chest. "No, he's still breathing . . ."

"We've got to get him to a vet!" I cried immediately, leaping up. "We've got to or he'll die!"

"No, he won't, Mac . . ."

"He just fell through a two story window!" I screamed at him. Now we definitely ARE attracting a lot of attention.

"But . . ." Harm argued futilely, suddenly throwing up his hands. "Fine! But we've got to get to one quick and," he whips out his wrist, "It's almost ten o'clock. All vets are closed."

I'm thinking frantically on the spot. "Wait!" I cried. "I know one that's open 24 hours a day!"

I seize the unmoving form of Albatross and sprint down the street with Harm flying behind me. "Where are we going?" He calls from next to me but I ignore him, I have a cat in critical condition here.

I throw open the door to my hotel, swinging it so hard it almost falls off its hinges if it weren't for Harm there to catch it. Our footsteps pound the hallways. "Hey!" I hear one of the hotel . . . people yell from behind us. We obviously don't look like we belong. "No pets in the hotel!"

All I do is shove Albatross Wallace at his face and he backs away as though I sprouted an extra head. We're running as fast our able legs can carry us. "Mac!" Harm calls once again. "Where are you going? There's no vet inside the hotel!"

I'm spared the need of answering as I fling myself at room 392, knocking loudly and fervently. The door swings open to reveal none other than Admiral AJ Chegwidden. I thrust the soggy clawing hissing Albatross Wallace at him. "We've got one sick cat here, sir!"

I'm glad that the Admiral prefers to act first and ask questions later, today it would save Allie's life. He picks up the clawing bundle of wet hair and pulls him onto the kitchen counter. "Rabb, hold the damn cat in place."

Harm whimpers as he slowly places his head on Allie's now thrashing body. Undoubtedly he's remembering the last time Albatross got his claws on Harm. He did the same thing I would have done, I realized with an amused grin. Never let go. The Admiral returns to the room with a first aid kit. "So what happened to this cat?"

"Albatross Wallace," I offered immediately. The Admiral blinks. "That's the name of the cat, I mean," I said quickly. "Albatross Wallace."

"Okay . . ." the Admiral trailed, looking at me as if I've just lost my mind. He turns to Harm as though he's the only sane one at the moment, "What happened to – ahem – Albatross Wallace?"

"A Harm got at him," I growled from across the counter. Harm glares at me.

"He . . . um, kinda had an unexpected bath and then fell a little." Trust Harm to downplay every single movement.

"He was drowned in Harm's dishwashing liquid and then fell out a window and down to stories where he hit the street," I said bluntly. "Will he live or not?"

"Well, as far as I can tell no bones are broken," the Admiral said slowly as he pressed his thumbs down gently upon each bard of Allie's body. "But we'll have to see, it may be undetectable at this exact moment in time. And we'll have to wash the detergent out of him so that if he licks his fur he doesn't taste anything toxic." The Admiral sighed. "You'll have to keep a close watch on him this weekend, and if your cat's still acting sort of funny, take him to a vet."

"Oh no," Harm begins, "he's not my cat. I don't even HAVE a cat."

"Harm, you poisoned and nearly broke poor Albert Wallace's body with your escapades," I admonished. "The LEAST you could do is watch over him for a weekend." I'm smirking beyond belief.

Harm glares at me. "Do you even REALIZE what we're taking on this weekend? The four Roberts children, a Zac, a Terry – TOGETHER – and now one sick broken furry spawn of Satan with a name that could have only been created by Doctor Seuss."

"A little dramatic, ain't he?" the Admiral said cheerfully as he handed me Albatross Wallace wrapped in a towel, his little ginger head peaking out of the top of the bundle.

"Just a little?" I asked in amusement as I ruffled Harm's hair almost fondly. And I don't believe for a second that the gesture went unnoticed by the Admiral.

"Aw, you know you love me anyway," Harm mumbled, opening the door to exit. I stand there rooted on the spot. Yes, I know he only said that as a joke, that the depth in it was minimal, and that I'm reading too much into things, BUT DID HE JUST SAY WHAT I THINK HE SAID?

"Colonel," the Admiral coughed from behind me. I find Harm standing in the doorway, his arm stretched to hold the door for me. I flash an embarrassed smile. "Thanks for fixing our cat, Admiral."

The Admiral sighed. "I'd love to say 'anytime' but I feel you and Rabb really would take that seriously." He looked up at Harm. "And for God's sake, put on a shirt next time."

I grin satanically as we both walk down the hall, him bare-chested and me trying my best to support an a hundred pound cat. I smiled at him, "My nights with you are always so action-packed."

He loops a lazy arm around my shoulder. "That's what makes them so memorable."

I laughed, "I could do with a little less memorability and a lot more ache-free muscles."

Harm's eyebrows waggle suggestively. "Well, that just leaves us to work out each other's kinks . . ."

I open my mouth to respond to that but just then –

"HARMY!"

Harm whips around to find Pants – ahem, I meant Jean . . . – sprinting down the hall as fast as a woman in three inch heels possibly can. She takes in his shirtless form and my arm-wrapped bundle. She surveyed me with the shrewdness of a woman with an extremely attractive boyfriend. "Newborn baby, Mac?" she cocked her head towards Albatross Wallace. "Looks just like you."

Allie hisses, expressing my exact feelings. Harm does his best to get the situation under control. "Uh, Jean . . . this is um . . . our cat, Albatross Wallace, and he just had a little accident so we had to come to the Admiral to um . . . fix him."

"Fix him?" Jean's eyebrow cocks up. "My my, Harm, I never thought you were one for neutering."

I gag on the air I'm breathing.

"No, not that kind of fixing." The back of Harm's next has turned bright red. "He kind of . . . um, fell out a window."

Jean nods her head, smiling seductively at him. "Yes, you weren't much of an animal lover . . ." her eyes posses a dark glint. "You're definitely more of a people lover."

I can't take much more of this. Harm's face has turned the color of a brick. "Hey, Harm, um – I'm going to just head back to my room now, I'll take Allie for the night. See you tomorrow?" I said meekly.

"Uh . . . yeah, sure," Harm mutters as I turn back down the hall, shifting Albatross's weight in my arms, a foreign emotion stinging the back of my eyes. _Things had been going just so well . . ._

"Hey, I'll catch up for a minute," I hear Harm say and then footsteps pound behind me till Harm's standing right in front of me. He opens his mouth several times but nothing comes out and then –

"I'd like to apologize," Harm begins but I cut him off.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," I said. "You didn't do anything."

"I know," Harm whispered. "But Jean . . . well, she's not always like that, Mac. Actually, she's usually never like that . . . I mean, she's probably just feeling . . . threatened or something."

My heart races at twice the speed it normally does. _Oh no, don't go there, Mackenzie. That's the point of no return. Don't go there . . . don't go there . . . don't go there . . ._ "And why would she feel . . . um, threatened?"

_You idiot._

Harm opens his mouth, but the hesitation is obvious. Disappointment stabs me like a knife. "Good night, Harm," I whispered gently, opening up the door to my room and disappearing behind its sheltering walls.

"Night, Mac," he whispered so gently to the closed door that had I not been leaning up against it when he'd said that, it would not have been audible.

* * *

**A/N: Man, how's that for angst. **


	20. Here Nikki Nikki

**A/N: Guys, I'm so sorry, but I can't find the real chapter twenty so . . . I don't think it was absolutely crucial to the plot. I kind of remember what was in it, and I think I can carry on without it so, let's just pretend it never happened, okay?**

**Here, Nikki Nikki . . .**

**1137**

**Copps Coliseum **

**Harm's POV**

"Okay, ladies, gents, and felines, out of the car," I jammed my thumb at the door as I pulled the van into the coliseum parkinglot. Mac swiftly exited the passenger seat and opened up the right rear door to lift Mitchell out of his car seat as Jimmy and AJ both struggled with their seatbelts.

"Alright, Harm, when does the first activity start?" Mac asked as soon as we'd entered the building, each carrying a twin in one arm and holding a hand of one of the older Roberts children in the other.

I checked the brochure, letting go of Jimmy's hand for a second. "Twenty-five minutes," I said, shifting Nikki up onto my left shoulder. "Right now, the top team should be down in the ring preparing themselves. I guess that's where Zach and Terry are."

"Okay, but first we've got to drop the kids off at the Child Care," Mac said reasonably. She turned to look around. "Does it say on the brochure where it is or are we going to have to go on a little treasure hunt?"

"I like treasure hunts," AJ said solemnly.

"That's nice," I replied briefly. My eyes scanned the flier. "Yeah, the Child Care Center's over this way – the hall to our left." I turned back to AJ and Jimmy. "Hey guys, while Aunt Mac and I are doing some adult business, you guys get to go a little play center. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Yes," AJ replied with Jimmy nodding vigorously beside him.

"Okay, then team, let's go," Mac commanded as we walked down the left hall towards the 'CHILD CARE' sign. I heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps today wouldn't be as hectic as I thought it would. Perhaps everything would run smoothly. Terry and Zach would maybe make the quarter finals, the kids would have a blast in the playroom, and hopefully be worn out by the time Mac and I came to pick them up. Yes, everything would be smooth sailing.

"Hi," I said as we approached the front desk of the Child Care Center. "I'm Captain Harmon Rabb and –"

"Yes, yes, you're here for that little competition they've got going and you want to drop your younglings off for the afternoon," the woman at the desk rattled off. I just stared at her. Evidently she'd been working here a LONG time.

I cleared my throat, "Um, yes. Where is it I sign up?"

"Clipboard," she said monotone, gesturing at the clipboard on the desk in front of me. "Um, okay," I said slowly, signing my name on one of the lines. "Do I just . . . um, put them inside the room?"

The woman nodded, preoccupied with her cell phone. I rolled my eyes and Mac and I entered the care center room. And what met our eyes shocked us. There were three people, barely out of high school – it seemed – and there were kids ALL over the place. Paint was splashed on the floor – still wet – and kids were trampling through it throwing things at each other. The instructors were powerless to stop them. Screams – both shrill and pained – met our ears and I felt myself externally wince.

"Oh, hello," one exhausted looking teen came up to us. "My name is Jerry, and I'm one of the instructors here." He offered his hand to me which I foolishly took, my palm immediately soaking it with blue paint.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jerry apologized throwing me an already paint-damp rag to wipe my hands off with. "One of the kids just decided to do a little finger art. We were really powerless to stop in." He flashed me a guilty smile as one of the kids threw a little plastic truck at him and it bounced off his forehead. "Anyways," he continued, bending over to look at the kids. "Who are these little angels?"

Mac's voice was strained. "This is AJ, Jimmy, Nikki, and Mitch."

"Well, aren't you a cutie?" Jerry cooed, and forgetting his hands were paint covered, pinched Nikki's cheeks, immediately placing two blue fingerprints on her creamy white skin. I sighed, my voice almost estranged from my throat as Jerry immediately apologized and reached to wipe Nikki's cheeks with the paint soaked rag.

I groaned, "Thanks, Jer, but I think we can take it from here."

"Oh, of course," Jerry nodded insistently. "So, when will you be by to pick up your kids?"

I opened my mouth to give Jerry a time but felt a sharp tug on my collar knock the breath out of me. "Hey, Harm," Mac said through gritted teeth. "Could I talk to you in private for just a second?"

"Uh . . . sure," I said in response and then flashed Jerry an apologetic grin as I walked over with Mac to the corner. "What?" I asked as she nailed me with a stern glare.

"Harm," Mac's whisper was pressed. "We can't leave the kids here with these fools! Look," she pointed as some boy – maybe four years old – ran past us stark naked with blue paint caked to his buttocks. "I'm sorry, but I'm NOT having FOUR kids coming home with us looking like THAT."

"Aww, Mac, it's only for a couple of hours . . ." I whined but Mac's glare just continued to rise in ferocity. "Okay, okay," I relented, my hands rising in self defense. "But then what do you propose we do with them?"

Mac shrugged her shoulders. "They can just stay with us, can't they? I mean, as long as they're quiet I don't see why it would be a problem."

I released a strangled sigh. "Ngh."

"Harm . . ." Mac trailed.

"Are you very sure we just can't leave them here?" I whined. I had kind of been counting on being alone with Mac this afternoon. Alone, if you excluded the hundred or so people that would also be in the room with us. I don't know why I was so keen on it, but it had just suddenly struck me last night as I was leaving her hotel that I only had one more week with her before she'd return to San Diego and I wanted to make the most of it.

"Harm, we are NOT leaving our godchildren here to . . . run with the wolves," Mac said as the four year old streaker zipped past us followed by Jerry & Co.

I sighed, "Fine."

"Alright then," she said. We walked back to where the kids stood, both fascinated and disgusted with the sight before them. I had to grin at Jimmy's awed expression. He looked exactly like Bud did on that beach in Sydney. Dumbstruck.

Mac shot me a curious glance as she picked both twins up, "What are you grinning all idiotically for?"

"Nothing," I replied, deciding the Bud-scene had been repeated more times than I could count. I immediately wiped the smirk off my face. "Now let's get going or the Admiral will have our asses for tardiness."

Mac rolled her eyes as we rushed down the hallway. "Don't you think it's sad that we're still so threatened by the Admiral and he's not even our CO anymore?"

"I think he's just a very threatening man in general and we have nothing to be ashamed of," I replied with a smirk as we opened up the doors to the theatre ring, immediately greeted by two very familiar voices.

"Bout time you showed up," the General said roughly. He looked down at the four kids that accompanied us. He sighed, "Romantic weekend for the Roberts, I'm assuming?"

Mac nodded. "We're babysitting."

"And what's that?" the General pointed at the pat transporter box I'd set down beside the fold out plastic seats we were to sit in.

The Admiral smiled grimly. "Albatross Wallace." The General flashed us all bewildered glances.

"Don't ask," we said simultaneously.

The Admiral shook his head. "Well, Gordon and I are going to go to the opposite hall where they've got a big board of Battleship going. We'll be back for the beginning of the first round. Kay?" he asked.

"Yup, sure," I nodded as the General and Admiral began to walk away. I flashed a shaky grin at Mac. "So, where are our young prodigies?"

Mac sighed, leaning over the edge of the rail. She squinted for a moment and then, "There they are!" She pointed down at the rink where I could just spot two shaky teens fighting over a water bottle. I sighed. True Zach and Terry style.

"Hey, kids, wrap it up," I ordered and untangled their hands from the water bottle. Zach's scowl at me was short lived due to Terry's sudden squeal of excitement.

"Oh my gosh, you've got babies!" Terry shrieked. She fled over to Mac who was holding Mitchell. "I didn't even know you and the Captain were together, let alone had kids!"

I cleared my throat kind of nervously, trying to spare as much of an embarrassing moment as I possibly could. "Um, the kids aren't Mac's – Colonel Mackenize's and mine. They're a friend's of ours."

Immediately, Terry's cheeks flushed pink. "Oh," she whispered, sharply elbowing Zach in the ribs as the undeniable grin of him partner's embarrassment flushed onto his face.

"Ow," he muttered, elbowing her back.

"Quit it, you two," Mac said annoyed, placing the twins in two of the fold out plastic chairs and making sure AJ and Jimmy were seated before continuing. "Have you guys gone through the exercises in the manual we gave you? The bridge things and the leading games?"

"Yes," Zach nodded vigorously. "We've done them all – and I don't see how they will help." He looked at the ground almost disdainfully. "We suck, Colonel."

"Oh, don't say that . . ." Mac begin but we were interrupted by the sound of an almost rhythmic marching. _Dun, dun, dun, dun-dun, dun, dun, dun . . ._ we whirled around at the same time as two black-clad teens jogged into the ring. Immediately, they grasped hands and broke down into partner-pull-ups, doing like one per second. All I could think was _Holy Mother of F –_

"You're kidding me," Zach could only gape. He turned back to Mac and I wide-eyed. "Okay, we are not cut out for this. We gotta go before we publicly embarrass ourselves."

"I second that," Terry piped up quickly. "We can't do this, Captain," she pleaded with me. "Please, let us at least save our reps."

For a second there I had real pity for them. Zach and Terry, as prepared as they might be, were no match for the Black team. Or, by the looks of it, any other team for that matter. I swallowed down my sympathy as Mac took on the hard-ass marine roll. "Snap out of it!" she barked at them. "Are you two just going to mope around and complain about your hard luck?"

Her eyes just dared them to say yes. I swallowed a grin. Man, this was going to be fun. "N-no," Terry stammered nervously.

"You sure as hell aren't!" Mac cried passionately. "You two are the representatives of The JAG Partnership Building Program. The PBP. And you're not going to let some . . . track-suited ninjas steal your glory, are you?"

"No?" Zach's answer came out as more of a question than anything.

"Damn straight you're not," Mac ranted on. "You two are going to go out there, do your best, and you're sure as hell going to win! Are you with me?" She hollered.

"We're with you!" Terry and Zach half-heartedly chanted back.

"Okay then, you go out there and you . . ." Mac trailed, "you do your . . . trust-game-thingy." Zach and Terry scampered off. Mac just sat there, her eyebrow raised into oblivion. "Man, that was a sucky end."

"Fit the speech," I grinned at her and received a light slap on my shoulder for my efforts. "So . . ." I trailed as I watched Zach and Terry take the mat with the other competitors. "You really think Zach and Terry are going to make first?"

Mac just stares at me as if I've grown another head. "Are you kidding?"

"Well, that's what you s –" I began but was cut off by Mac.

"Well, of course that's what I _said, _Harm," Mac rolled her eyes. "My money's on eighth place."

"There's ten teams," I pointed out.

Mac nodded and sighed, leaning back in the plastic chair next to Jimmy. "Exactly."

**Same Time**

**Other Room**

**No POV**

"Lord, those two bite," the General said as he looked down from the stand in the corner and into the arena where Zach and Terry were practicing. He chuckled as he took note of the anxiety on both Rabb and Mackenzie's faces.

"Well, we did twist their arms behind their backs by giving them Taron and Connors," the Admiral reasoned with a wry grin. "But I suppose our revenge will be short lived. Rabb and Mackenzie will break them soon."

"AJ, they can't even break each other," the General pointed out, "how are they supposed to do the same to their miniature versions?"

The Admiral sighed, "Nothing's impossible for the dream team."

"I agree," the General whispered. "But they don't seize half the possibilities in front of them."

And suddenly the Admiral felt that Gordon was no longer talking about teenage competitions.

**Same Time**

**Next Room**

**Mac's POV**

"_Alright, Ladies and Gentleman, would you kindle take your seats for the beginning of the first task of this competition."_

I can feel something within me begin to tingle, and I pray it's the competition rather than the fact that Harm's leaning into me so he can pick Mitchell out of the seat next to me. I look down at Zach and Terry who are so nervous they're practically breaking out into sweat. And suddenly I feel nervous for them too. It's not only their reps they'll destroy if they embarrass themselves. It's Harm's and mine too. But even more than that, they almost . . . remind me of Harm and me. Which is kind of scary, I've got to admit. But if everything works out alright for Zach and Terry, does that mean it can work out for me and Harm?

My thoughts were interrupted by the _Boom! _of the competition beginning. I watched as some near-bald man walked out into the center of the ring, microphone in hand. _"Welcome, Ladies and gentlemen, competitors and coaches, to the thirteenth annual Trust Troop Competition. For our first task, we have one rather large wave trampoline."_

He motioned behind him where we could now see a trampoline – as large as the whole ring – being set up with a bar in the middle. I flashed Harm a curious look, but he just shrugged his shoulders. He had no clue what was going on either.

"_The way this works is the pair of competitors will walk onto the trampoline, one on either side of the bar in the middle. When one bounces on one side, the other side reacts. It's like a seesaw. When one is up, the other is down, and they meet in the middle for only a split second as they travel their directions. The goal of this task is for the team to not only keep balance with each other's rhythm, but they will have to pass an egg between each other. An egg will be given to one of the pair to start off and he or she must throw it to their partner as they are in motion. The most throws and catches will be awarded points, as well as balance. Good luck to you all!"_

I'm now a little panicked now. Neither Harm nor I had ever been crazy enough to give Zach and Terry eggs. Eggs break. Zach, Terry, and eggs just don't belong in the same sentence. I cast Harm a worried look, "If they break the first egg – they don't get a second, do they?"  
_"First pair up," _the speaker crackled, _"Zachary Taron and Teresa Connors from the JAG Partnership Building Program."_

Harm winced, "Why do THEY have to go first?"

I patted his arm, looking down into the ring and sighing. "Well, maybe it's better this way. If they went last, it would show how much they suck. At least this way they don't have anyone to be compared to yet."

Harm chuckled. "Quite the optimist, aren't you?"

I scowled at him and then smiled. These days I was finding it very hard to stay mad at Harm. Instead this feeling of utter giddiness would sweep my body when I looked at him. My stomach did somersaults. "Jimmy, please don't play with Nikki's seat," I said as Jimmy's hands roamed under the unfastening clip.

"Okay," Harm breathed, his perilous blue eyes firmly fixed on Zach and Terry. "Here we go."

Zach stood on the left side of the trampoline, and Terry on the right. In Zach's right hand he held the egg, looking down at the ground and drawing long tantalizing breaths. His eyes leaped up to meet Terry's who immediately connected with his. Zach began to bounce, slowly and surely, as Terry on the other end swayed to his motion. Was that their plan? To move slowly? I didn't think they'd get many points for that. But I had to give them some credit, they probably wouldn't break the egg this way.

Slowly but surely, Zach was jumping higher – with more force – and Terry was on the receiving end, touching the ground and almost immediately leaving it with as little weight as possible. They were . . . _graceful. _I couldn't put it any other way. Zach would leap gently so Terry would not crash, and she would leap and spring off as fast as she could so he could come back down. Were they, dare I say it, . . . working _together_?

"Do you see what I see?" I whispered to Harm in his ear.

"Shh!" He put his finger to my lips. "You're going to jinx it."

Zach and Terry had created this firm balance between each other. I watched as Zach's arm slowly raised before his chest. I bit my lower lip. He was going to throw the egg. Almost as if sensing my anticipation, Harm grasped my hand in his own. I felt my heart rate triple in speed. _Oh, my doctor was not going to like this . . ._

Zach threw the egg. Slowly and surely it sailed through the air just as Terry plummeted back down towards the trampoline. Her arms flew out in front of her, frantically scrapping at the air as the egg tumbled towards her. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Harm squeezed my hand hard. And . . .

Terry caught it. The egg fell into her hands, almost immediately flying upwards as Terry hit the trampoline and soared back into the sky. This almost feminine strangled cheer erupted from within Zach's throat. I felt pride soar within me, golden and hot, engulfing my very being. Harm and I hadn't failed them. If anything, they were stronger. It took a massive trampoline and a fragile egg to make us realize that, but now that we had the image was unfazed by the past.

Terry released the egg from her grasp and it landed idly in Zach's open palms. Somewhere in the distant echoing of my ears, it registered that crowd was cheering. Cheering for Zach and Terry. My grin spread wildly over my lips.

"Yes, they're doing it!" Harm's on his feet, clapping madly as is other people. He ran over to AJ, picking him up as if he was as light as a sack of potatoes, and swinging him around insanely. "Harm, be careful," I warned, ever the protective one.

"Yeah, yeah," Harm shrugged it off, putting AJ and down and picking up Mitchell who gurgled happily in Harm's arms. He'd known Harm for little more than a week, and already they were best friends. Kissing Mitchell firmly on the head, he tucked him back in his seat, reaching over to Nikki's. "Come here, Nikki-babe, ahhhh!"

I whirled around just to see a very agitated Albatross Wallace throw himself at Harm as Harm swings his arms around like a windmill trying to ward the demonic cat off. He's hopping from foot to foot, Albatross clawing his face insanely, with Harm's screams of pain as motivation.

"Harm!" I cried running over to him. "Just sit still! I can get poor Allie off."

"POOR ALLIE!" Harm was attracting more attention than the actual competition was. "POOR ALLIE? YOUR POOR ALLIE IS EATING MY FACE!"

"Oh, hush, Harm, everyone's staring at you," I moaned as I seized Albatross Wallace from around his middle and yanked him off Harm's head. Struggling, I threw him back into the pet cage, taking a long sympathizing look at Harm. His previously smooth tanned skin was now cut and torn, with blood seeping between the gashes.

"Oh, Harm, I'm sorry," I whispered, retrieving a Kleenex from within my purse and dabbing his cuts gently. Slowly, I drew my face towards his and blew on the cuts. Never had he felt so gentle underneath my hands . . . "Why ever would you let Allie out?"

Harm's at peace expression was suddenly gone. "What?" he echoed. "I didn't let him out. I only went over to Nikki's little seat and . . ." he suddenly broke off. "And your cat was sitting in her little seat-thing, not her."

My brown eyes connect with his ocean blue. "But . . . but if Allie was in Nikki's seat then where's . . ."

Harm and I shot out from the position where we were squatting while I dabbed his wounds, and sprinted over to our seats. There AJ and Jimmy at like perfect angels, watching Zach and Terry bounced. I looked at the two baby seats positioned next to me and Jimmy. There Mitchell sat, entertaining himself by squeezing his hands over his ears, but the seat next to him was empty.

"Nikki!" I was screaming at the top of my lungs. I ran through the rows and rows of seats. "Nikki, honey!" This overwhelming sense of urgency swept my body. "Nikki! Please come out! Nikki!"

Harm's voice echoed around the room as he too started shouting her name. We were attracting a lot of attention. _The Cat Scratch Man also lost a kid? _I was sprinting through the audience, checking under every seat. All I could think was _we lost Harriet's only daughter! _"Nikki, baby, please come out. Nikki!"

I ran over to Harm who was frantically jumping through all the unoccupied seats. I knew the answer before I asked the question. "Have you found her yet?"

Harm's silence ripped right through me. He dashed over to where AJ, Jimmy and Mitchell sat, determined not to lose any more kids. "Hey guys, do you know how Nikki got out of her seat? Did you see her go?"

AJ shook his head solemnly, but Jimmy was suddenly ghostly quiet. "Jimmy?" I prodded gently. "Jimmy, honey, do you know how Nikki left her seat?"

Jimmy was silent and then in a small voice he said, "If I tell you'll be mad."

"Oh no," Harm pleaded, holding onto Jimmy's small shoulders. "We won't be mad, we just want to find your sister."

Jimmy's dark eyes flipped between Harm and I and then he sighed. "I let her out."

My voice tightened. "What do you mean _you let her out_?"

"She was bored," Jimmy professed. "She wanted to go, and Mr. Kitty wanted to be out of his cage so I let him out and took Nikki out of her seat."

"And where did you put her, Jimmy?" Harm whispered.

Jimmy pointed at the floor beneath his feet. "I put her on the floor, but she must have walked away."

Harm's eyes and mine flew together. _Walked away? _"Okay, AJ, Jimmy, I need you guys to stay here," I rattled off quickly. "AJ, don't let Jimmy and Mitch out of your sight for one SECOND, okay?"

AJ nodded, wrapping his arm protectively around his youngest brother. "I won't."

"Okay, where do we look?" I asked as Harm and I were just about to start on the stairs but we were both interrupted by the shrill cry of a child.

"Ni ni!" I could hear Mitch call. "Ni ni!" We ran back to them. Mitchell sat happily in AJ's lap, his arm outstretched and finger pointing down into the ring. "Ni ni!"

Harm stared at me. "What's a Ni ni?"

"That's what Mitch calls Nikki," AJ said matter-a-factly. We stared down at where Mitch was pointing in horror. And sure enough, right at the edge of the trampoline, we could see a small blonde girl crawling forward. Onto the trampoline.

"No!" Harm was shouting from the top of the railing. "Someone stop that baby!"

Harm's voice is lost in the cheers of the crowd as Terry and Zach complete another stunning pass of the egg. Harm and I are sprinting down the stairs to the ring as fast as we possibly can. I can hear the beat of my own heart echoing within my ears. We run out to the edge of the ring, panting from the extent of our speed. "Nikki!" I'm screaming so hard. "Nikki! Don't!"

We run to the ring but two rather well built security guards stop us. "I'm sorry, Sir, Ma'am, you can't go into the ring."

Harm will have none of that. "That's our baby right there!" he hollered.

The security guards just stared at us. "Excuse me?"

"That's our baby," I said, frantically pointing at Nikki. "And if you don't hurry, she's going to crawl right onto the trampo –"

_BOUNCE!_

Nikki soared into the air, so light she flew higher than Zach and Terry. Emitting a loud childish shriek of delight she plummeted back onto the stretchy material beneath her. "NIKKI!" Harm hollered.

"Oh god, you've got to stop the trampoline!" I'm screaming at the guard. "If she falls on her head, she could die!"

The guards are finally up to speed but reluctant to comply. "I'm sorry, sir, ma'am, but we're under strict orders not to turn off the generator under the trampoline under any circumstances."

Harm moves as though to rise himself to full height but he never gets that far. I stand in front of the guards, small and threatening. "YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR MEN. THERE IS A ONE YEAR OLD CHILD ON THAT FREAKING DEVICE OF YOURS AND ONE LITTLE FLIP IN THE AIR AND SHE COULD DIE. DO YOU WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE LOSS OF A HUMAN LIFE? DO YOU? WELL KEEP IT UP! WE WILL SUE YOU FOR ALL YOUR PATHETIC INCOME'S WORTH!"

One of the guards is already on the phone with his superior while the other tries to pacify Mac. "We can't influence the outcome of the events. The lawsuits against the company would . . ."

"DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT LAW SUITS?" I'm hollering at the top of my lungs. "YOU BET YOUR ASS WE CAN TALK ABOUT LAWSUITS IF YOU DON'T GET MY LITTLE GIRL OFF THAT TRAMPOLINE!"

The guy must be twice my size, probably twice my height too – I guess I must be real scary when I'm mad because he's fumbling with the cords to his phone. "Let me just call my supervisor and . . ."

We have no time. Harm leaps forward, crashes through the arms of the security guard and runs over to the electronic control panel. There are buttons, wires, bars, etc. Neither of us have any clue which one turns off the trampoline. So what do we do? Just guess.

Harm pushes down all the buttons at the same time I pull out the wires. Our hands run along the switches, flipping everyone either down or up depending on what direction they were originally in. Immediately, the room is plunged into darkness along with the deafening _whoosh! _of the trampoline deflating.

"Harm?" I grope through the inky blackness towards where I'd last seen him. "Harm?"

I suddenly crash into him, feeling his strong arms circle around me to keep me from tripping. I cling to his neck, almost unwilling to let go. My voice pushes unwillingly out of my throat. "Nikki?" I whispered. "Where's Nikki?"

"You two." The voice is low and dangerous, a firm hand suddenly planted on both our shoulders. "You need to come with us."

**Twenty Minutes Later**

**Customer Service**

"You don't understand, sir," Harm grit his teeth hard. "She's not OUR daughter. She's our friend's daughter, and we're her godparents. And if you don't let us get back to the theatre room, we're going to have her three brothers wandering aimlessly around this place."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rabb, but we can't release the girl to your custody until we're absolutely positive that's where she needs to be," the man at Customer's Service droned. "As far as my computer tells me, you and Colonel Mackenzie are not married, live in two separate locations, as do the parents of the girl."

"Her name," I said through gritted teeth, "is Nikki Erica Roberts, not THE GIRL. And so help me, if you don't give me my goddaughter I will –"

"Please, ma'am," the man droned. "No threats or I will have you removed from the room and you won't be seeing your "goddaughter" any time soon. Now, if you have any proof that she is entrusted in your custody, you can be on your way."

Harm sighed heavily, looking at me in despair. "We have to get the Admiral."

I winced, "alright. I'll go get him, but this isn't going to be pretty."

"Oh yeah, and pick the trio up while you're at it," Harm said as an afterthought as I was leaving the room. I nodded in response and quickly left the room, entering the stage room where AJ, Jimmy, and Mitch sat patiently.

"Hey boys," I said, picking Mitchell up off of AJ's lap and holding him in my left arm. "Come on, we need to go get Nikki and Uncle Harm." I gulped a little as I approached the Admiral and the General cautiously. "Sirs?"

The Admiral surveyed me through skeptical eyes. "Quite a show you and the Captain put on."

"Er – yes, about that, sir," I began shakily. "Um, well, to get Nikki back we kind of need someone to prove that we're the ones taking care of Nikki and since you're an Admiral and everything . . ." I trailed. I cleared my throat, "would you, sir?"

The Admiral sighed heavily, following me down the stairs to the Customer Service desk. "The things I do for you two." He approached the desk. "Mr . . ." his eyes squinted as he read the name tag, "Mr. Archibald, I am Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden, retiree of the Judge Advocate General Corps. I am here to assure you that these two nitwits," he scowled at Harm and I, "are in fact the godparents of Nikki Roberts. Both the Colonel and the Captain were previously under my command as well as Nikki's parents."

"Well, that's all very well, General, but –"

"Admiral," the Admiral corrected. "I'm ADMIRAL Chegwidden."

"Oh yes, sorry, Captain," Archibald lazily corrected. "Are you personally vouching these two are taking care of the kid?"

The Admiral rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am."

Archie shrugged his shoulders. "Okay then. You two," he nodded to Harm and I. "Go in through the back door there, you'll find the girl. But leave the kids outside," he nodded towards AJ, Jimmy, and Mitch. "Kids touch things that don't belong to them."

I sighed heavily, "Admiral, would you mind watching –?"

"Just go," the Admiral said waving us forward. Harm and I stumbled into the back room.

"Boy," Harm breathed. "The jams we get ourselves into."

"You said it," I returned, relieved. We looked around the room. "Oh no."

"What?" Harm said, suddenly casting a look around the room too. "Oh shit."

"Don't swear in front of kids," I admonished as I walked forward. In the room there were four babies, each in their own cribs. Two were very obviously not Nikki, wearing very bright clothes. But the other two were both wearing the same plain white jumper, had thin blonde hair, and blue eyes. "Okay, Harm, you pick up Nikki and I'll return to the kids."

"Oh no, come back her Mackenzie," Harm tugged on my collar pulling me closer to him. "YOU can pick up Nikki and I'll go get the boys. It's best I pacify a disgruntled Admiral."

"No no, I _insist,_" I pressed, turning to the door. "You can get Nikki."

"Mac."

"Harm."

There was this long threatening pause and then, "You don't know which one's Nikki do you?" I asked softly.

"Do you?" Harm shot back. We fell into embarrassed silence. "Okay, Mac, let's think this through logically. She's our goddaughter, we can figure out which one's her."

"Yes, that's right," I nodded along with Harm. I picked up both babies, weighing them carefully in my arms. "This one has airplanes on her jumper, and the other one has balloons. Was Nikki wearing airplanes or balloons?"

"Airplanes," Harm replied instantly.

My eyes nailed him to the wall. "I didn't ask what you _wanted _her to wear, what _was_ she wearing?"

"Airplanes," Harm replied easily. I heaved a sigh of relief, picking the airplane-clad baby out of the crib. ". . . or balloons."

I glared at him. "Well which is it?"

"I don't know!" Harm exclaimed, his hands rising in defense. "How come you didn't notice what she was wearing? You're a girl. Girls just generally notice clothing!"

"Not BABY CLOTHING!" I yelled at him.

"Okay, okay, calm down," Harm spoke slowly and rationally. "We can figure out which one's Nikki. It should be simple."

"How?" I asked.

"We'll put them in the middle of the room and call to her. Whichever one comes to us fastest is Nikki."

"Harm!" I exclaimed, hitting him in the back of the head. "We are not going to race them to see which one's our goddaughter! What if we brought home the wrong kid?"

"Bud and Harriet will have a track star for a daughter," Harm snickered. I glared at him.

"This isn't funny, Harm."

"I know, I know," Harm sobered instantly. "We could bring Mitch inside here and pick the kid that looks the most like him. I mean, Nikki and Mitch are twins, after all."

"We could . . ." I trailed doubtfully. "But that's pretty faulty reasoning. Besides, these two kids look so much alike. It would be hard."

We fell into a shaky silence, only to be broken by, "Captain! Colonel! What's taking so long?"

"Oh no," I groaned, leaning into Harm pathetically. "The Admiral's gonna skin us."

"Use that psychic power of yours," Harm encouraged. "You found Chloe and you found me. Surely you can find the kids three feet in front of you."

"It doesn't work like that, Harm," I whined. "Now quick, we have to pick a kid. Which one's Nikki?"

"Um, okay, uh . . . spin me around," he said.

"What?"

"Spin me around," Harm ordered. "I'll close my eyes and point my finger. Whichever kid the finger lands on is Nikki."

"Harm!" I cried incredulously. "That'll never work!"

"We've got a fifty fifty chance," Harm reasoned. "If it's not one, it's the other."

"Well, we're not taking both home," my voice rose.

"WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE MATTER HERE?" The Admiral boomed. We whirled around as he stalked into the room. "Let's get the kid and get a move on."

I bit my lower lip. "Um, well . . . you see, uh, sir . . . Harm?" I asked weakly.

"It's just that . . ." Harm trailed. "You see, Nikki's kind of . . . um . . ."

"Spit it out, already," the Admiral said impatiently.

"We just don't know which one's Nikki," Harm blurted out. The Admiral just stared at us, his eyes traveling between Harm and I lengthily, looking like one of those moving-eye cat clocks you can buy at the dollars store.

"You're kidding me," he said bluntly.

I'm distinctly uncomfortable, "We wish we were."

The Admiral moaned, approaching the two cribs where the Nikki-look-alikes sat. He picked up the one in the airplanes, held the baby upside down, cradled it in his arms, and inspected it all over. He placed it back in the crib and handed us the baby in the balloons. "Here's Nikki," he said with finality.

I held Nikki awkwardly. "You're sure, sir?"

"Positive," the Admiral said, beginning to walk out the door. I just flashed Harm a curious look which Harm returned with his own inquisitive glance. We ran behind the admiral through the door.

"You know as a matter of fact," Harm pressed. "Like, a hundred percent?"

"Yes, Captain," the Admiral drawled in a bored voice. "That is Nikki Roberts."

"But, but how do you know?" I asked as we approached AJ, Jimmy, and Mitch sitting in the lobby of Customer Service.

"Because," the Admiral said turning around as he exited the room, "what you two geniuses failed to notice was the other kid was a boy."

And with those elegant parting words, the Admiral exited the room. I just looked at Harm, who in return stared at me. I began to laugh shakily, my voice trembling as I held Nikki to me, kissing her all over her forehead. "Oh my god, we nearly brought home a fourth boy . . ." I gasped.

Harm grinned, running his hands through Nikki's soft blonde hair. "I knew it was you all along, sweetie," he whispered to her, casting me a shrewd glance. "Even if your Aunt Mac had you confused with some other boy."

"Oh yeah, says the guy who was absolutely _sure _Nikki was wearing airplanes," I rolled my eyes at him.

Harm grinned at me, as the six of us exited Copps Coliseum. "I do believe you asked while we were in the car what could possibly go wrong with this weekend?"

I sighed, shifting Nikki up to one arm so I could take Jimmy's hand as we crossed the street. "And here we're only an hour in."

**A/N: Since the disappearance of the real chapter twenty, only one more chapter before i start writing new stuff again. **


	21. A Sin of Anguish

**A/N: Hey, guys. Long time no see. A few reviews kind of jogged me out of my updating coma. I've got to say. I've had like ... what ... seven reviews in the last week? After not updating for months? Is there some kind of forum you guys go to to decide which authors need updating alarm clocks? Because if so, link me. **

**A Sin of Anguish**

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: S'all fine**

Hey,

I'm just emailing you to inform you everything's fine. Your children are bathed, clothed, fed, healthy, and definitely asleep. First day was a breeze. Had a blast. Hope you and Bud are doing well.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: S'all fine**

Hi,

Okay, that's good. I got a little worried when you hadn't emailed me by eight, but I'm sure you and Harm have it all under control.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Oh my god, I can not BELIEVE you. Harriet the LIE DETECTOR Sims did not pick up on the fact that I just lied through my teeth! All is NOT fine here, for your information. I am NOT okay. The first day was NOT a breeze. It was anything BUT it. I did NOT have a blast, and I REALLY NEED YOU HERE. WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Okay, Jesus, BREATHE. Remember how we talked about that? Well, it's not just a cliché, Mac. It does actually work from time to time. Now what's wrong? Is AJ hurt? Jimmy? Mitch? Nikki? Mac, you're scaring me here. What's wrong? Tell me what happened!

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

You are such a hypocrite. You tell me to breathe and you practically had a verbal seizure. Well, it's none of the kids. The only part of my first message that was true is the part about them being bathed and clothed and asleep (though we did have this rather funny incident with Nikki . . . heheh, actually, you probably won't find it that funny. Best we skip over that . . .)

Anyways, I am DYING here, Harriet! It's Harm. You'll never believe what happened to us today. Oh god, it was cruel. It was embarrassing. It was the max of both worlds. And I'm not talking about the Nikki thing. Oh, Harriet, how am I supposed to face him again? I can't even LOOK him in the freaking eye. Right now I'm currently hiding out in the coat closet. Yes, that is how bad it is. I AM IN A CLOSET.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Uh huh. Well that's nice. You can tell me about it in the morning.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

HARRIET! You are soooooooooo not ditching me like this. Whatever happened to "I'll be there for you when you need me, Mac" or "don't worry, Mac, you can talk to me" or "it's going to be fine, Mac. If you have any troubles, e-mail me or call me or etc."? What happened to that? Harriet, I am having a CRISIS here! And you're IGNORING me. What in the WORLD could you be doing that is more important than the total and complete condemnation of my life as I know it?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Ohhhhhh, Mac, you have NO idea what you're interrupting. Think … honeymoon in London.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Well consider this an act of God! The last thing you need is to impregnate yourself again. And besides, THIS IS SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT. Do you hear me, Harriet? Do you hear the alarm in my voice? You yourself always said I had a tendency to downplay rather key issues in my life. THIS IS NO FREAKING FALSE ALARM: My life is OVER, Harriet, and here you are doing it with your husband while I sit in a smelly coat closet, my social life crumbling to dust around me!

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Ughhhhhhh, well, I'm sure it'll please you to know you've officially ruined the mood. And by the way, I am pregnant. I can not further impregnate myself, thank you very much. Now what's the fuss?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Now do you see? I am so out of my mind over this I forgot you were pregnant (oh yeah, and how's that going? Now that we're on the topic and everything). Oh god, I can't breathe, I can't breathe . . . these moldy old jackets are not helping either . . . Oh lord, they stink . . . they stink . . . I'm going to die in this closet.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

GET OUT OF THE CLOSET, you stupid girl. God, you're reminding me more of Pants every second we spend talking. And the pregnancy is going fine, nothing much has changed since ... oh, nine o'clock this morning. Now, again, WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? (Sorry for shouting, if I was next to you right now I'd be slapping you. Hopefully the capslock has the same effect)

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

You're cruel, you know? Cruel and unusual. Anyways . . . oh god, where do I begin? Hmm, okay, it started right after we found Nikki. No actually, it's better to start after dinner. That's when things really started happening. And besides, I think if I tell everything from the raw beginning I'll pass out from this closet smell before I make it halfway through. Anyways . . .

It was Jimmy who started to fuss first. At dinner, I mean. Harm had made spaghetti while I entertained the kids. To be fair, I think Harm got the harder job. Though certainly less noisy, he made dinner for six (true, the twins' dinners together still wouldn't amount to a one person's portion – but you're always on my case about how "they're individual people" … whatever) while I parked AJ and Jimmy in front of the television, turned on the Cartoon Network, and rocked Nikki and Mitch 'til they fell asleep. Everything was going smoothly until Jimmy kicked up a fuss midway through dinner.

He doesn't like spaghetti. Why didn't you tell me that? Or well, maybe he does. Maybe he just likes throwing it better. Either way, the latter is most definitely true. He picks up a very large meatball, squishes it in his fingers (it was then I should have seen what was going to happen, but what can I say, Harriet? I am just not good with kids) and he flung it at AJ. And let me tell you, you've got an expert marksman on your hands. It hits AJ square on the nose, and tomato sauce dribbles down his chin.

In AJ's defense, he did not throw anything back ... at first. But the twins were so encouraged by their older brother's messy antics they picked up their spaghetti and began to throw. Oh, AJ was having a riot. I grabbed Jimmy by his hands and in desperate attempts to ward off the onslaught of spaghetti but it was a classic case of monkey-see-monkey-do.

"Ghetti! Ghetti! Ghhheeeetttttiiii!" Mitch was hollering at the top of his lungs. He flung spaghetti up in the air, laughing shrilly as a split second later the wet noodles came tumbling back down on top of him.

"No, Mitchell, no!" Harm admonished, picking up the one-year old from his high chair, cutting him off the spaghetti-circle. "No!" he repeated sternly in desperate hopes that Mitch would understand.

Mitchell laughed.

"Maaaccccc," he moaned. I had no sympathy for him. I had Nikki planted firmly in one arm, and Jimmy by the waist in the other. Jimmy was hollering bloody murder. "It's okay, Jimmy," Harm did his best to console the three year old. "Hey, Jimbo, turn that frown upside down."

I rolled my eyes, "you actually think that's going to work?"

Harm scowled at me, "you got a better idea, Einstein?"

_No. _"Yes."

"And that is . . .?" Harm prompted, flipping Mitch up onto his shoulder as Mitchell screamed in pure delight.

_Yes, and that is . . .? _"We chain him to his chair and spoon feed him."

Harm rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, that's much better. These kids will leave here ranting about child abuse."

"He's _three, _Harm," I replied bluntly. "He has no CLUE what abuse is."

"I'm hungry," Jimmy piped up smiling. Harm and I just glared at him.

"Hungy, hungy, hungy!" Nikki cooed.

"Of course they're hungy hungy hungy," Harm snarled, putting Mitchell back in his little seat (well away from whatever spaghetti remained). "They throw all their food and then they're hungy."

I deposited Jimmy and Nikki into their seats much the same way Harm had done with Mitch and then joined Harm in the kitchen in a desperate search for food. I opened up the cupboards. "Well, you've got bread and peanut butter. We could make sandwiches."

Harm perked up at this comment. "Hey kids, what about sandwiches?"

Jimmy made a face. Mitch and Nikki were absolutely clueless as to what sandwiches were. I turned back to Harm. "The last thing we need is them throwing sandwiches around," I said practically.

"Probably less messy than spaghetti," Harm muttered under his breath. He opened his next cupboard. "Hey, I've got soup!" He called joyfully. "How do you like that, Jimmy? Soup?"

Jimmy stuck out his tongue.

"Soup makes Jimmy barf," AJ supplied us factually. "Mom NEVER gives Jimmy soup."

"All kinds of soup?" Harm asked weakly. AJ nodded. Harm sighed in distress.

"Well, what DOES Jimmy like to eat?" I asked AJ who was still eating his spaghetti, he being the only one of the formidable four that hadn't thrown their food.

AJ thought long and hard before answering. "He likes caviar."

Harm was amazed. "That?" he asked, pointing a finger at AJ who sat in his chair licking his fingers. "The meat-ball-chucker likes caviar?"

AJ nodded. "Well, don't all three year olds?" I joked. Harm glared at me.

"Does he like ANYTHING else?" desperation seeps into Harm's voice, and then in a softer and quieter tone. "Anything vegetarian?"

I snorted loudly. If any family was the typical red blood carnivorous American family, it was the Roberts. I knelt down, picking up little Jimmy but careful to keep him at a distance – he was still covered in spaghetti sauce. "Is there anything you'd like for supper, James?" I asked to the three year old.

Jimmy paused a very long moment before answer with a nod. "McDonalds!"

Uh huh. Of course, you've got a fussy three year old so what do you give him? Burgers and fries. And not just any kind of burgers and fries. The ones that come with the ten cent piece of crap that every kid dies for. I turn to Harm with a satanically angelic smile on my face (yeah, an oxymoronic description – so sue me), "So, burger boy . . ." I drawl. "Are you going out, or should I?"

Harm cast me an annoyed frown. I know it made him disturbingly nauseous whenever he walked into some sort of greasy fast food join, but I also knew he didn't like me running around a city I didn't know at night by myself. As it turns out, the later reason won. "I'll go," he grumbled, grabbing his car keys off the counter top.

"Okay," I said agreeably. "Me and the boys'll just stay and clean up, I guess."

Harm sighed, "Okay. But if I'm not back in fifteen minutes, call 911." He shot me a pointed stare. "I probably fainted the moment I stepped into that grease house."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, there is such a thing as a drive through."

"Ngh."

He left the apartment. I turned back to Jimmy who was grinning at me, his fingers once again in the spaghetti sauce. I sighed, "Okay, Jimbo," I said, adapting Harm's nickname for Jimmy, "how about you go into the bathroom and take off your clothes while I run a bath, okay?"

Jimmy nodded and scrambled over to the bathroom leaving a trail of dripping tomato sauce in his wake. I sighed and picked up the twins who gurgled happily within my arms. AJ just kind of sat there, a pool of tomato sauce encircling his body but not a spot on his clothes. I'd ask how he managed that, but as I was constantly reminded every time I looked into those sky blue eyes of his – he IS your son, Harriet. And you are possibly the neatest, tidiest, most organized person I have ever met.

Anyways, the way I figured it – if I got the three of them into the tub, I could give them a quick scrub and get them into some fresh clothes before Harm arrived. I mean, the twins were certainly too big to be washed in the sink, but all three of them could fit into Harm's tub. I guessed it would take approximately ten minutes. Oh how very very wrong I was. It is now more than ever I am so deeply in awe of you, Harriet. You have the outstanding capability to wash your children AND email me at the same time. I couldn't do it if I had a thousand dollar incentive.

Well, I'd give you the blow by blow of their bath episode but I figure you can already pretty much guess how it went. I struggled to get all three in the tub, and by the time I did they splashed and splashed and splashed. Yes, Harriet, I suppose you are still in befuddlement over my angst at the beginning of these emails. Just wait, it is actually quite un-kid-related, but it is their fault. Not that I'm trying to place blame or anything. Kids will be kids, I know that. And James is three years old. But why can't life just give me a break?

Anyways . . . fastforward to basically the end of bath time . . .

"Aunt Mac?" Jimmy asked innocently, smiling at me as I toweled him dry on the bath mat. I had his rocket ship pyjamas in one hand and a dark green towel in the other. His hair is so short but it still takes a lot of work to dry it. "Aunt Mac, I'm hungry."

"Well, Harm's getting McDonalds for you, sweetie," I said affectionately and helped him struggle with his sleeping shirt (Elmo in an astronaut costume on the stomach – that's so cute). "Now, could you do me a favor and go get Nikki's and Mitch's pyjamas? I left them on top of the bed in your room."

"Okay," Jimmy said agreeably and scampered off. I turned back to the twins who were still joyfully splashing around in the bathtub. Though Nikki's hair was longer than Mitchell's, Mitch's was still long for a boy's. Maybe not a baby boy, babies could get away with anything, but Mitch's long blonde hair fell almost shag-like over his eyes. Nikki's was a fraction of an inch longer, but had a very feminine curl to it resulting in easy recognition of her gender. However, splashing in a large porcelain water-filled pot, both looked rather alike if not identical. Except, of course, for the very obvious difference.

"Okay, Mitchy," I took your pet name for him, Harriet. I scooped the toddler into my arms and struggled with him as he began to kick like a fish. I dabbed him all over with the towel as Jimmy walked in with their pyjamas.

"Here you go," he said dutifully and placed them on the counter for me. I thanked him and he departed, still damp but tomato-sauce-free.

"Okay guys," I said cheerfully as the twins were dried off. "You're done."

"Hey, I didn't know it was bath time," a voice interrupted me from the doorway. I swear, I'm losing my touch, Harriet. Before I could just sense it every time he came into the room. But now . . . I'm just so haywire. Is there a cure for this? I want to sense him again!

"Well, I just thought since you were getting the food, the least I could do was clean them," I said practically as the twins both scrambled off down the hall, tripping over their own feet as they did so. I kept one eye on them and the other on Harm. "So, you got the burgers?"

"Oh yeah, four happy meals," Harm nodded. "I know AJ technically still had spaghetti on his plate, but he's seven. I know he'd rather have the junk than the good stuff."

I smiled, getting up off the now water-splattered floor and stretched out to full height. "Don't be offended, he's not quite old enough to appreciate your fine culinary skills."

"Not like you are?" Harm grinned back, he edged closer to me . "So you and I can dine on the fruits of my "fine culinary skills"."

I try to grin – I really do. But I just keep seeing the Roberts' sitting down at the table and I'm souping up meatless pasta on a fork while they scarf down McDonalds burgers and top it off with those greasy fries. My mouth begins to water. Harm shook his head, laughing. "You're so bad." He cocks his head towards the kitchen. "I picked you up a Big Mac Meal."

I just stared at him.

"Yes, oh, the irony," Harm rolled his eyes and tugged almost playfully on my arm. "Come on, we can finally eat dinner.

"Just wait one sec," I said bending over to pick up Jimmy's damp sauce splattered shirt (I'm going to try my best to get the stain out, Harriet, but it was that white Dino t-shirt that Bud bought him at the Science Fair last year. So … no real loss if I have to chuck it out or anything …) and folded it on the counter. "I'll get to that later," I said.

_Rrrriiiiinnnnggggg._

"Wait, what was that?" Harm asked suddenly from beside me. He turned back to me, "did you hear the telephone ring?"

"Yeah," I said semi-sarcastically. "That shrill piercing sound would be your telephone."

"Well – whoahhhh" Harm's foot lands in the puddle before him and his front foot slides out in front of him. In that split second before he comes tumbling to the ground a few images float perilously in front of my mind:

_**In the Sauna:**_

"_Harm?" I ask, and upon receiving no answer, I open the door a little and take a peak in. But all I can see is steam swirling around thickly, fogging my sight and destroying any visual chances I have at all. Setting Mitch down on the ground, I open the door a little more, taking one step forward and then –_

_I fall._

_I scream as I trip over something, or rather someone, and am sent hurtling to the ground. But luckily for me, there's already someone on the floor to break my fall. Harm._

_**PBP Headquarters:**_

_CRASH!_

_I fell on top of Harm as his legs came tumbling down from the shock of it all. My hands flew out to stop myself from hitting the floor but instead managed to wind themselves around Harm's shoulders. Our head banged together sharply and painfully. Harm turned to twist me off him but instead managed to catch my legs within his and then –_

_The door opened and students began filing in. I looked up to see at least twenty pairs of eyes zoning in on Harm and I laying in a tangled heap on the floor, limbs locked to one another – blackberry and pamphlet be damned. Harm grinned guiltily as he efficiently disentangled himself from my body. "Well . . . welcome to the JAG Partnership Building Program."_

_**PBP Headquarters (Again):**_

_From beside me I hear a sharp intake of breath as Terry sets her eyes on Vukovic, Zach momentarily forgotten. "Damn, he's sexy as sin . . ."_

"_What?" comes a startled comment from Zach, turning around so fast he and Harm collided._

_CRASH!_

_Vukovic, Terry, and I all simultaneously whirl around to see Harm and Zach on the floor, struggling to get up but slipping on the objects strewn on the floor._

"_Sir . . .?" Vukovic trails, walking forward with his arm out to pull Harm up._

"_Wait, watch ou – !" I begin but –_

_Vukovic's foot hits the book that Harm had put in the center of the room and trips over it. His arm lunges out to grab anything or anyone to hold onto. That anyone or anything is me. He pulls me crashing down on top of him, who's on top of Zach, who ultimately is on top of Harm._

It is some sort of twisted act of God, Harriet. Every time we're together, something has to fall, collide, ram us in the face, get stuck in the hair, or something EXTREMELY EMBARASSING must happen. I did not realize as these images floated before my eyes, that the next one would cover most of the above bases.

"Harm!" I screech abnormally high. Harm slides to his knees on the wet soapy floor. In an utter act of complete desperation for balance, his hand launches out in front of him and grabs onto the only thing within reach. Me. He grabs onto my leg as he comes tumbling down. "Wait, don't!" I'm screaming frantically as I can feel his weight pull on my body. "Nooooooo . . ."

I throw myself backwards in attempts to slam myself against the wall. Mostly to keep myself up, hopefully to keep both of us up. And I'm sure this plan would have worked perfectly ... had there actually been a wall for me to slam onto …

SPLASH!

I'm hurtling through the water. From above me, there's this almost tidal wave reaction – though, of course smaller. My hair swirls around me. _I can't breathe. _The realization hits me most profoundly. I struggle to keep my head above the water. I AM IN A BATHTUB, IT IS NOT TERRIBLY DEEP. The twins could float in it, for god's sake! AND THEY'RE ONE. But that was just it, they had this childish buoyancy about them. I had Harm's thigh across my chest.

"Mgh," I gurgle from underneath the water. I fight Harm's leg off me. My nails scratch frantically against the porcelain walls of the bathtub. Damn, this bathtub's big. I'd admired it as I put all three kids in, but who knew it actually had room for both Harm and I? Oh wait, sorry, that wasn't what I was thinking at the time I was drowning in Harm's bathroom. It was more like _GET THE EFF OFF, RABB!_

I elbowed Harm in the gut. Yes, Harriet, I know that was mean, and probably painful to him, BUT I WAS DROWNING. Harm gasps in sudden spurt of pain and shifts his body completely. It's like the cap over my body was suddenly gone. I flung myself out of the water, gasping desperately for air. From beside me I can still hear Harm groaning. Our limbs are entangled. We are very little on top of each other. Me? I'm just so grateful to have a little oxygen in my lungs, I couldn't care if the Admiral was on top of us at the moment. Famous last words.

"I'll give him the phone," I can hear Jimmy say and then there's the sound of patted footsteps into the bathroom. Jimmy's still holding the phone to his ear. He looks at us, his eyes widened with childish ignorance. "I'm sorry, Mr. General Sir," Jimmy reported solemnly. "Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are having a bath together. They're busy."

If ever there had been a more embarrassing moment, it was then. Clearly Harm felt much the same way. "Jimmy, GIVE ME THAT PHONE!" Harm tries his best to leap out of the tub but trips over my legs and falls back down hard. It hurts, and not just for him. He landed on top of me. "Jimmy, give it here!" Harm coughs out the water in his long. Jimmy's saying something else to the general but we can't hear him. "Jimmy!" Harm called again. "JIMMY!"

"Yes, sir, Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are in the tub together," Jimmy reported matter-a-factually. "And mommy always tells me to never disturb her while Daddy and her are in the tub." (Yes, Harriet, you can at least share some of my pain). There's this long pause and then, "Yes, sir, I can see them." Another long and painful pause, and then –

"The bathroom's a mess. There are clothes ALL OVER THE FLOOR," Jimmy stretches. I look at Harm in crazed shock. Yes, there are clothes on the floor. JIMMY'S CLOTHES, to be precise. "Okay, I'll put him on. But Mommy said not … okay, if you say so … you'll tell my mommy it's okay right?" (Isn't that precious – NOT) "Alright, here's Uncle Harm."

He thrusts the phone into Harm's hand and then runs in the opposite direction as fast as he can. Which is good, because by the time Harm and I had untangled ourselves from each other in the bath tub, we were about ready to come after Jimmy with swords and cross bows (no, we didn't actually – Harm was short a few swords).

"Hello … yes, sir … no, I'm not having a bath with Ma – Colonel Mackenzie," Harm's stuttering terribly. "… Well, I mean, we're IN the tub, but that was entirely a mistake … no, we are not doing anything unbecoming of an enlisted officer … Jimmy was exaggerating …" Harm's rolling his eyes followed by, "Sir, do you honestly think when – IF, I meant IF – Colonel Mackenzie and I were doing something _inappropriate _we'd display ourselves in front of our godchildren … No, sir, THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED."

I patted Harm on his knee, my skin flushed pink from top to bottom. Can someone actually die from embarrassment? Cuz if you can, I think I was pretty damn close. "You do your best, Harm," I said rather hollowly. Harm's lucky, he gets to stay in London. I go back to the US with the General. Yay.

I walk into the kids' room (Harm's guest bedroom) and dig through my bag until I find the pair of PJs I packed (plaid bottoms, Bugs Bunny t-shirt) and changed slowly. My clothes were soaking wet, so I stretched them out, and piled them in with Jimmy, Nikki, and Mitch's clothing. I figured I'd do a load for the five us that night as soon as Harm gave me his. Somewhere in the background, Harm finished debating with the General and hung up. I folded the remaining clothes I had (the dry ones) and put them back in my duffle bag.

And that was when I did a very stupid thing. When I committed the sin which is the cause of my present day anguish. I seemed to abandon all self and executed the highest act of idiocy I think I shall possibly ever do. And, leaving out the details I'd rather keep to myself (ALL to myself, thank you) here is the blow by blow:

"Hey, Harm, I'm gonna wash the kids' and my clothes in a load so if I can get yours –" I began, and I pushed open the door. I PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR, HARRIET. I PUSHED IT OPEN. WITHOUT KNOCKING, WITHOUT SOME FORM OF "HEY, YOU DECENT?" I PUSHED OPEN THE FREAKING DOOR.

Harm whirled around. To his credit, he was not completely naked. His boxers were about halfway up his legs – knee length, if I had to estimate. His blue eyes widened with like an electric shock. "Mac!"

"Harm!" I scream. And he just stands there, his hands trying to cover up his most precious possessions and that is when the embarrassment hit its ultimatum. I just stood there and gaped. I am not kidding. If I could have looked at myself in a mirror at that point, I was probably drooling. And then I did the most embarrassing thing I could possibly do. This even after I fell into a bathtub with him, the General thinking we're sleeping together (or at least bathing together), walking in on him naked, NOT LOOKING AWAY. Yes, that's right, even more embarrassing than all of that.

I squeaked.

I am not joking, it was a full fledged shrill female SQUEAK. And then, I turned brick red and fled. So now you know the reason behind my hide-out-in-the-closet. You can see why I can never look him in the eye again. You know why I think the smell of these moldy stinky old coats is better than the fresh air outside. MY LIFE IS OVER.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD … wait a minute, what do you mean "after you found Nikki?"

H

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: ALL IS NOT FINE**

You just soooooooooo missed the point.

M

* * *

**A/N: I'm serious about that author alert forum. Definitely link me if there is one (by email). Butttt if this is just all some strange coincidence, major thanks to everyone who reviewed me asking where the hell i was. I will try and get better at updating. Really. I know you've heard it all before but ... well ... this time's different.**

**And thanks for the reviews, guys. i love reviews. Great incentive to keep writing. **


	22. A Little Rusty

**A/N: Woot. Woot. NEW CHAPTER. Like just written. Hot off the press. Broke my thumb playing volleyball yesterday, so you have no clue what kind of pain I went through to make this happen right here.**

**Also, I know this is the JAG section and everything but on the offchance that any of you watch Law & Order SVU, my usual channel didn't play it this week but apparently it did play for some people, so if you are one of those fortunate ones who saw what happened, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME. **

**A Little Rusty**

"_Hello, you've reached the residence of Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."_

"Captain, it's the General. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you and Colonel Mackenzie, but considering the fact she is currently unreachable, she of course _has_ to be with you. All I can say is, I hope you haven't managed to get her shot by a poacher again. Yes, AJ told me about that. Please contact me ASAP."

"_Hello, you've reached the residence of Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."_

"Hey, Harm, it's Harriet. I was just wondering if I could talk to the kids but … well, since you're out, if you could just call me at the hotel when you're back, and I could say good night to them. Anyways, hope you're having a good time … see you soon …"

"_Hello, you've reached the residence of Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."_

"Hey Harm, it's Sturgis. I was wondering if you wanted to catch a game this weekend? But I know you're with the kids so I understand if you don't want to. But I've got two tickets to the basketball game, front row … just sayin', you'll be very sorry if you miss this, buddy."

"_Hello, you've reached the residence of Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."_

"Hey, Harm. Harriet again. Just calling to see if you're back yet … well obviously you're not … just don't forget to call me, okay? I'm starting to miss the kids … well, hope you're having fun … bye."

"_Hello, you've reached the residence of Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."_

"Hey, Harmy! It's me! So what's your sexy self up to today? Heehee. Hope it's not something too naughty! Especially not without me!! Heehee. Call me, babe!"

"_Hello, you've reached the residence of Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."_

"Harm, I'm getting kind of worried now. Where are you? I want to speak to my –"  
"Mommy?"  
"AJ! Thank god you picked up the phone! Where's Uncle Harm?"  
"He's looking for Aunt Mac."  
"Looking for her?"  
"Yeah, Aunt Mac's gone missing. She disappeared after giving Jimmy a bath."  
"AJ, put Uncle Harm on the phone."  
"But I –"  
"AJ, please, give the phone to Uncle Harm."  
"But – _crackle beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep"  
_"AJ? AJ? AJ!"

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_

* * *

_

**2245  
Harm's Apartment  
Harm's POV**

"Mac?"

I opened the closet door. There, in the small left corner, was a very red-faced Marine. My jackets and windbreakers were mostly thrown haphazardly around the closet, my longer jackets hanging from above, shielding most of her body from sight. But her shoes still poked out, and between the jackets, I could see her shielding her face.

I sighed and entered the closet. "Mac?" I repeated.

"Hey."

Her voice was kind of high, and I remained quiet long enough for her to somewhat relax. I smiled, but it was lost in the dark of the closet. "So," I said slowly. She remained silent. "We should talk about this."

"How about …" Mac stopped mid-sentence. She closed her eyes for a brief second, then continued. "How about … we just don't?"

"What?"

Mac closed her eyes again. "How about …" she whispered slowly. "We just … don't … We don't talk. We don't share our feelings. We just don't."

"Mac, I don't understand."

"You don't HAVE to." The frustration seems to seep into her voice. "I don't know what we're doing, Harm … I don't know what we thought we were doing. What we were thinking. We can't just leave our friendship then expect to be able to just pick it up a year later. We were fooling ourselves into thinking we could make this work. And it's obvious from these past few days that we can't do what we're attempting to do. It's best to just … leave it alone …"

"Mac." My voice sounds surprisingly desperate.

"I'm serious, Harm." Her eyes stared fiercely at me. "I don't want to drag this up. I just want to … leave it …"

"Mac," I whispered. I can hear her voice breaking. I can't see her, but I can feel the tears.

"Stop it, Harm."

"Mac."  
"Harm…"

And she's in my arms. How many times have we done this? I couldn't even begin to count. And it felt like it had been a long time. My hands on her back, her arms around my neck. It was a familiar feeling, with a certain sense of history to it. Like riding me a bike. You never forget, but you do get a little rusty.

"I'm sorry," Mac said after a long moment.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "For getting emotional just now. I'm just … tired, I guess."

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

"It has."

She looked up at me, and we gazed sort of awkwardly at each other. I was still holding her, and we were both sitting rather awkwardly on my closet floor. I smiled warmly at her. "I guess we should … you know …"

"Yeah," she said quickly, in desperate attempts to spare us an embarrassing moment. She got up. I opened the door and gestured for her to go first. She proceeded forward. "Oh, and Harm," she turned. A tinge of pink had returned to her cheeks. "I'm sorry about that whole … dressing thing …"

"It's okay."

"I mean, I should have knocked. I don't know why I didn't knock."

"It's okay, Mac."

"I _always_ knock. It's like some sort of unwritten rule that everyone obeys. _Everyone_ knocks."

"It's fine, Mac."

"Or at least I should have said 'you decent?' or something to that effect, but I don't know why I just didn't _knock."_

"_Mac."_

She looked up, and I found myself grinning at the look of mild shock on her face. "It's okay," I said slowly. "Honestly, I've already forgotten about it."

"But Harm –"

"Mac, stop," I said. "You're tired. I'm tired. The kids are tired. You and me, we're not going to solve anything right now that we can't in the morning. Let's just put this conversation on hold for now. Okay?"

Mac sighed as she relented. "Okay."

"Alright," I said, a little brisker than I felt. I ran my hand through my hair. "Mitch and Nikki are asleep in their crib, and AJ and Jimmy have my bed."

"So … we're sleeping …"

I grinned and gestured at the couches. She just looks at me. "You're joking? Out of this freaking huge apartment, you don't have one guest bedroom?"

"Well, yeah, I do," I said offhandedly, opening one of the closet doors and throwing some pillows and quilts onto the couches. "I just don't have any beds for them."

"That's a smart combination."

"I know, eh?"

Mac shook her head, smiling, as she took a pillow and a quilt and settled down on the far couch. And for the first time that night, I actually got a good look at her. Despite the fact that we'd just spent the last half hour or so talking, the closet was dark and my vision was otherwise impaired. But now, as she laid on top of the quilts with her blackberry permanently glued to her fingers, I realized what she was wearing.

I raised an eyebrow, nodding at her pyjama pants. "Cowboys again?"

"What?" She looked up, a little disoriented for she'd been focused on whatever she'd been writing, presumably to Harriet. She looked down. "Oh yeah," she said smiling. "Well, they are my favorite."

"Mine too."

She looked up at me. "Huh?"

_Had I REALLY just said that? Really?_ "Nothing," I said. "Nevermind."

Luckily, whatever Mac was typing had her thoroughly engaged and I was blessed with no other questions that night. I turned out the light and laid down on my sofa, quilt wrapped around me. A little light glowed from Mac's blackberry, which she was still typing on. I could see her from where I lay. Her eyebrows were furrowed in a sort of thoughtful frown. Her fingers moved rapidly across the keys. I watched her bight her lower lip. She did that a lot. Mac's long hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She wore a faded white t-shirt with her cowboy pyjama pants. I really did like those pants. They displayed so much character.

And I couldn't help wonder, was I watched her, what exactly it was that we keeping her so engaged in what she was doing. It was an email, I thought dully. To Harriet of course. But what, pray tell, was the subject.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Holllllllllllllllllllllllllllly crap, Harriet. I have stuff to tell you.

M

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

TELLLLLL MEEEEEEE NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. I WANT ALL THE DETAILS! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN THE LAST HALF HOUR??? I'VE BEEN EMAILING YOU INSANELY AND YOU DIDN'T ANSWER.

H

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Okay, okay, calm down. I have a perfectly legitimate reason for not answer your emails. I was with Harm! Okay, well … it's complicated. But, let's just say he found me in the coat closet, which didn't seem to surprise him somehow and seeing as the only person on the planet besides myself who knew I was hiding in the closet was you …

Just kidding. I know you told Harm, but I'm not mad. Honestly. I'm not. We spent the last half hour talking and, we actually seem to be moving in the right direction. I mean, I was going to give up on us. I was. But Harm actually seems to be keeping a clear head. He's practically running the show.

M

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Ahem, Mac. Dear. Honey. When I say I want details, I mean DETAILS details. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great you and Harm had a nice little chat but … girl, you saw him naked. WHEN I ASK FOR DETAILS, I MEAN SEND ME SOME FREAKING CRUDE PORNOGRAPHIC DETAILS.

God.

Did you ever go to highschool?

H

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Harriet!!! I am not giving you details!!! What are you, some sort of soccermom pervert?

M

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

I'm hanging my head in shame. My secret is out. NOW TELL ME, DAMMIT!

H

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

No thannnks. I think I'd prefer to keep the details all to myself, thank you very much.

:P

M

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

You suck.

H

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Yeah, well, you – oh, okay, I'm going to go. I think I'm keeping Harm up by typing too loudly.

Talk to you in the morning,

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Typing too loudly … Mac, these keys are practically silent. The only way you'd be typing too loudly is if he was practically right next to you … Wait … give me a second here …

HOLY FREAKING CHRIST! MAC! GET YOUR ASS BACK ONLINE! IS HE SLEEPING WITH YOU?

IS HE? IS HE? IS HE?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Mac!

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: HARM!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

MAC!

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, it was a little short. Sorry about that. I'll try and make it longer for next time, but as I said before … broken thumb … the typing did take a while. Review if you liked the chapter. Or if you didn't. Whatever. I do enjoy feedback.**

**And PLEASE, if you saw SVU, TELL ME EVERYTHING!**


	23. An Explanation for Everything

**A/N: I'm sorry for having been gone so long. Things have been crazy. School stuff has been crazy. But I'm off on break now so … well, stuff should be better now. Hopefully. **

**This is one of the more touchy/feely chapters, and less focused on humor. But I thought we needed that so … here it is. **

**Happy Holidays.**

**Oh yeah … and before I forget … since it's been so long since I've updated, last chapter Harm and Mac were sleeping in Harm's living room on couches because the kids were in Harm's bed.**

**

* * *

**

An Explanation for Everything

**0203**

**Harm's Apartment**

**Harm's POV**

2:03.

It was 2:03 in the morning.

My eyes blinked. The sky outside my apartment was dark. The night air was stiflingly silent. It should be, I thought dully to myself. After all, it was 2:03 in the morning.

I leaned back on the sofa, my eyes begging for sleep, but my mind wouldn't rest. Mentally, I was wide awake. I looked up at the ceiling. It was a beige, boring ceiling. A ceiling I had struggled to come accustomed to. I released a sigh. A ceiling I could potentially be staring at for the rest of my life.

My eyes whirled to the window. Between the cracks of the blinds, I could make out a beautiful dark sky. A rich navy color, with scattered white stars. Light from the moon shone through the window, scattering through the blinds and … as my eyes turned from the subject … fell upon a certain someone.

Mac.

My mind seemed to seize as I thought the name. I got up from the sofa. _Don't think about her_, I mentally commanded.

I walked into the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of water. I bit my lower lip. My eyes just couldn't leave her. They refused to. I put the empty cup on the kitchen counter. I rubbed my eyes. _Don't think about her._

I walked over to my window. I fingered the blinds. I didn't like blinds. I liked curtains. My eyes traveled the room. But like much of what was in this apartment, I didn't have much say in the matter. I sat back down on my couch. _Don't look at her._

I forcefully switched my gaze to the clock, but even that betrayed me. The moonlight cast Mac's reflection upon the smooth glass face.

I turned away as though the vision burned me. _Mac…_

It was kind of unbelievable, in an ironic sort of way. It had been ten years. A decade. Almost a quarter of my life. It felt a lot longer.

I bit my lower lip, and finally gave in. My eyes flipped to her, and something inside me … the urge to breathe, the feeling of goosebumps against bare skin, the deep pounding of my heart within my chest … just seemed to suddenly race.

I'm not trying to be romantic. But things just start to happen around Mac. Her name, her image, just _her …_ is mentally and emotionally stimulating. I was like an alcoholic around her. She'd been on my every breath for nine years and then … a twelve month break … and the very sight of her gave me an insatiable craving.

I leaned back down on the sofa. The last twelve months weren't something Mac and I had talked about. Frankly, it wasn't something I much wanted to get into. While I could picture Mac hitting the San Diego scene, with sun-tanned California guys and cherry read Corvettes, she had to have been living the good life. And me … I was a twelve month patient of Sarah-Mackenzie-Rehab.

It had been painful.

The entire experience had been incredibly crushingly painful. Walking down the street, I would pass someone with Mac's scent. A little girl would run by with bright brown eyes. Someone would laugh the same way she did. A song would begin to play, and I'd silently think to myself "Mac would like this". Little things like that. Little, everyday things, slowly tore me apart.

Detoxing from Mac was probably the hardest thing I'd ever have to do. I'd see an email from her in my inbox, and delete it, because it was too painful to read. In a board meeting, I'd suddenly hear some random person say "Well Sarah Mackenzie down in San Diego's JAG …" and freeze. Those days were painful.

I looked over at Mac, sleeping calmly on my couch. Her dark brown hair fell in waves over her shadowed face, and I resisted the urge to push it back.

If I'd thought that cutting myself off Mac would calm my obsession, I was quite dead wrong. The less I saw her, the less I wrote to her, the more I thought of her. The only time I'd been this paranoid over her was when Mac was in Paraguay … and at least then I had good reason to be.

I watched her stomach, as she breathed in and out. Her tiny waste rose and then dropped … rose and then dropped … It was amazing how absolutely intoxicating some bodily functions were.

I'd met Jean on one of my low days. I had those. Low days. Days where I barely talked to anyone, and mostly shut myself up in my apartment or office. I'd been cutting through Bluevale's department store when I'd met Jean, who was a saleswoman in the men's section. My first impression of her was that of which I'd previously encountered. As soon as we met, I was struck by how similar to Renee she was. She was loud, entertaining, and incredibly willful.

It was then I started to date Jean. And this, I admit guiltily, but feel it must be said. I didn't date her out of a true attraction to her personality. Of course, she was nice enough, and she had a good humor, and (despite what anyone might say) was smart, but it wasn't those qualities that fueled our fire. No … With her golden blonde hair and high-pitched voice, Jean in no way whatsoever reminded me of Mac.

And that was exactly who I needed. Someone I could come home to after a long day at work. Someone who took my mind off my problems and would not surge any feeling for another certain someone.

I looked back at Mac. She looked so peaceful.

Sarah Mackenzie … in London … The idea still seemed to fascinate me. Sarah Mackenzie … sleeping on my couch. The words were stimulating.

I pulled my laptop out from beneath my couch (I'd hidden it there to keep it safe from the kids), and set it up on my lap. It took a minute to load. _I needed help. _My eyes kept drifting to her sleeping body, her head cradled gently on the pillow. My pillow …

_Oh god, I really needed help._

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Title: Remind me …**

Okay, so seeing as you two are supposedly my best friends … the guys who have seen me through all … who know me inside out … I've got a question.

Why exactly have I NEVER gotten together with Mac? In all ten years?

Think about this please, and then email me back.

H

* * *

**To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

I think it was timing.

B

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

I think you're just both emotional idiots.

S

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

… It's two thirty guys … why are you still up?

H

* * *

**To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

Preparing for tomorrow … I get to give the seminar on courtroom etiquette.

Needless to say, I'm thrilled.

S

* * *

**To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

Harriet wants to talk about baby names … she wants to name him JORDIE.

JORDIE.

She won't even CONSIDER William.

B

* * *

**To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

You're naming him after William Shatner aren't you …?

H

* * *

**To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Remind me …**

But it's a nice name, isn't it?

B

* * *

**A/N: It's kind of short … sorry about that … but how's this. If you guys all tell me what you think of this chapter (seeing as its kinda serious and I don't usually make TLWL that way), then I'll get another chapter out before Christmas (AND I can do that because I'm on break … yeyah). **

**Rock on.**


	24. Here is Gone

**A/N: Heh… funny story, guys. I seriously, no lie, thought Christmas was Tuesday instead of Monday … my little sister clarified this matter for me later, but I was unable to update in time so … well, here it is now. **

**Feel free to crucify me in reviews.**

**I deserve it.**

**Here is Gone**

**1032  
Harm's Apartment  
Mac's POV**

"_Hey, guys, why don't you watch TV in my bedroom? Aunt Mac's still sleeping …"_

I rolled over on the couch, burying my head in the pillows. I heard the scrambling of little feet across the wooden floor followed by a string of childish giggles, and though still in a semi-slumberous state, coaxed a smile to my lips.

I felt someone lift my legs up from the end of the couch and I opened my eyes to see Harm sit down on the farthest cushion, delicately placing my legs over his lap. I shivered slightly. Harm's hand grazed my bare leg.

"Hey stranger," I said, and Harm smiled in response. I moved to sit up, and Harm released my legs. I pushed my hand down over my hair, desperately trying to tame my standing locks. Harm watched me with a semi-amused grin. I rolled my eyes. "What time is it?"

Harm's eyes flew to the wall clock. "Ten thirty-five."

I looked up in surprise. "Wow … I slept in …"

Harm smiled sympathetically, "You've been working hard."

"Not really … not anymore than usual, anyway."

Harm's eyes could not seem to pull away from me. I stared back, with a defiant sort of elegance. It had been a long time since I'd seen those eyes. What was that look he was giving me? That message he was trying to convey. Could it possibly be … no … it couldn't …could it?

Harm broke our gaze, turning away suddenly. "Here … I'll get you some coffee."

"Thanks," I said, looking down. My heart seemed to pound.

He looked at me for one second longer, and then gently touched my knee as he stood up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I clasped my hands, my skin seemed to burn. Why had his touching my leg felt so strangely intimate?

I looked away. _You said no to HIM, remember? YOU said NO to HIM._

… _Why was that again?_

_**Flashback to a Year Ago**_

_My hands run themselves up and down his arms. My expression is dead serious. Harm sighs, and I follow suit. The weight against me is crushing. I tilt my head down in defeat, leaning my forehead against his. I look up to meet a pair of perfectly blue eyes. I'm crumbling. _

"_I don't want you to leave the Navy, Harm."_

_There's a change in his eyes. He releases a slow and shaky breath, one of his hands taking the liberty of running itself up and down my back. Our eyes never break the bridge they've built. "And I don't want you to leave the Marine Corp, Mac."_

_Both statements seem to hit us hard. The crossroad. We had to have known it was coming … how could we not?_

_**End Flashback**_

"Mac?"

I looked over. "Oh," I said, and gently took the coffee cup from his hands. "Thanks."

He sat down next to me. The awkward silence dominated. "What were you thinking about?" he asked softly.

I looked up. "Sorry?"

"What were you thinking about … just now …?"

I opened my mouth to speak and then realized … I didn't quite know what to say. I paused, and then decisively relented. How much damage could the truth possibly do? "I was thinking about the night before you left to London and I left to San Diego."

Harm looked slightly caught off guard. Clearly that was not the response he had been expecting. His eyes met mine, analyzing me carefully. "Do you think about it a lot?"

It was my turn to receive an unexpected question. I couldn't help but look at him. What was he thinking? What was he _feeling?_ Nerves seemed to take over my body. I nodded my head slowly. "Yeah," I whispered in response. "I can't help it."

Harm exhaled. It suddenly struck me that we were quite terribly close. He touched my hand gently. I withdrew as though electrocuted. He stared at me, and I flashed him an apologetic look. I replaced my hand in his, and he squeezed it . "You're my best friend, Mac."

I felt my throat tighten. "You're mine too, Harm."

This was becoming an almost unbearably emotional conversation. His eyes were a very deep blue. My whole body seemed to tense. Can someone _please_ tell me what this is? Why am I feeling this way? I rejected him. I turned down an offer I can't begin to even comprehend. Is this it? Is this all I'm ever going to get? Is this all me and Harm are ever going to amount to be? Best friends?

Because that's not enough any more.

I looked away. Why does everything just have to be so goddamn _hard?_

"Mac."

Harm's voice is unbearably soft. I didn't turn to look at him. "Leave me alone," I whispered.

"_Mac_," Harm stretched. I refused to look over. "Come on … talk to me …"

"I just …" my voice was breaking. _I'm _breaking. "I just can't do it anymore, Harm."

Harm's voice strikes me as so pure and so innocent. "Can't do what, Mac?"

"I can't do _this!" _I screamed in frustration. I turned around to face him. "You … me … this _friendship. _I just can't do it anymore, Harm. We leave each other on terrible circumstances. We don't talk for a year. And then what … we're back to being best friends? Harm, stuff just doesn't work that way!"

I suddenly feel so tired, though I'd just woken up. "It's been _years_, Harm. _Years_. Years of screaming at each other, and fighting with each other, and ignoring each other, and hurting each other and …and I'm still …"

I stopped.

Harm's voice comes out tentative and soft. "You're still what, Mac?"

I froze. What do I say …?

Harm approaches me cautiously, as though I might explode. His eyes explore mine, with a profound understanding of exactly how I work … down to the very last ticker of my internal clock.

He stood in front of me, his head bent low so that every word he spoke case a soft breath upon my lips. "You're still what … Mac?"

I feel completely 100 percent entranced by his lips. They looks so soft … and his eyes, a deep blue. I seem to tremble beneath his gaze. "I still feel …" I begin, but to the end sentence seems suddenly too difficult.

Harm moves closer, if even possible. As close as he can get without touching me. He moves his lips slowly towards mine, as though we're about to kiss. His eyes seem to gently flutter shut. "You still feel what … Mac?"

I can feel his breath upon my lips. The entire experience is intoxicating. "I still feel …"

My knees are weak. His hand gently brushes my thigh, once again forcefully reminding me that I'm wearing sleeping shorts. It suddenly seemed to strike me how incredibly undressed I was. I shivered through the heat. The heat emanating from Harm's body … from my body … from the fire roasting beneath his mantle …

The whole experience leaves me spinning.

"I still feel …"

"You still feel what?"

If his lips got any closer, they'd be on my own. The electricity between us shocks me to the core. I'd forgotten how good this felt … how _right _this felt … the perfection that was our chemistry.

"I still feel …" I murmured, his lips barely a centimeter from mine. "I still feel the way I felt when we …"

"Aunty Mac! Uncle Harm!"

We broke apart as though violently shocked. I felt my skin burn bright red, the effect of any and all embarrassment inflicted upon me. Harm regained composure far faster than I did. He stepped back. "Hey, AJ, what do you want, kiddo?"

"Come play scrabble with me!" AJ begged, grinning. "Pleeeeease. Jimmy doesn't know that many words."

Harm smiled, and patted AJ on the back. "Sure, buddy. We'll be there in a sec. Just give me and Aunt Mac a moment, okay?"

"Sure," AJ said companionably, and ran back into the next room.

"He's such a great kid," Harm said softly, still staring in AJ's direction. "He's really grown up since the last time I saw him … I just still can't believe he's sev – Hey, where are you going?"

He turned back to me as he saw me grabbing my pillows off the couch.

"I just … I think – I think I'm gonna get changed and grab a quick shower," I said, and bit down on my tongue. Why do I always have to stutter? And why is my skin so goddamn _red_?

"Um …" Harm said, hand lightly scratching the back of his head. "Okay … we'll talk later?"

My breath caught in my throat. "Yeah," I whispered. His blue eyes were back to staring at me. "Later. We'll talk … later."

And I stumbled out of the hallway and into Harm's bathroom.

_Later …_

But how much later?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

Harriet … I'm in trouble. I think … I don't know what I think. I don't know what to do. Harriet, I'm lost. I'm emailing you from inside Harm's bathtub, for god's sake.

Help me.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

Oh no … you didn't see him naked again, did you?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

No … but, Harriet, I think Harm might return feelings for me …

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

MAC. THAT'S GREAT! CONGRATS.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

But Harriet … he lives in LONDON. LONDON FREAKING ENGLAND. This is NOT great. I'm finally ready for a serious relationship with a guy who may just return my feelings and he lives in LONDON.

WHAT PART OF THIS IS GREAT?

P.S: sorry for shouting.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

Just leave it to me.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

Harriet …tell me what you're doing …

Now.

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Just enjoy yourself. Leave everything to me.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

Jeezus, I hate it when you get all superior on me. :p

P.S: How's little William doing?

Mac

* * *

**To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Harriet … I'm in trouble …**

It's JORDIE.

Harriet

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback last time, guys. I also really liked those suggestions people left. If any of you have suggestions for the plot line, please don't hesitate to ask in a review/personal message/ or email. Whatever's better for you. **

**You may be wondering why I titled this chapter Here Is Gone … well, today for Christmas I got "Gutterflower" by the Goo Goo Dolls and I was listening to it just now when I was writing the chapter, and they have this great track on it called "Here is Gone", and I just couldn't resist naming the chapter that.**

**Just in case you were wondering. **


	25. Let Love In

**A/N: Hey guuuuuuys. I'm back. I told you I would be. **

**This chapter goes out to Shron whose birthday was yesterday! So sorry I missed it, buddy. But since you apparently like the Goo Goo Dolls, I'm also naming this chapter after a song/album of theirs. **

**I saw this tour in July and again in November. Amazing.**

**Let Love In**

**To : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Jen Coates (Jennifer(dot)coates(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: Operation Break the Barrier**

Hey everybody/sirs,

I do believe you are all familiar with Captain Harmon Rabb and Colonel Sarah Mackenzie. Well … Harm and Mac, you see … under the recent circumstances, I am lead to believe that … considering the lengths at which the captain and colonel have gone to … ah, screw it. Enough time has passed. It's been ten years, guys.

_Ten._

_Years._

Enough is enough. We can't stand aside and watch them ruin the best years of their lives because they're too stubborn to just _admit_ their feelings for each other. And we all know they have them …

So if you're with me on this, and you think Harm and Mac deserve a decent shot, email me back. The more people I have in on this plan, the smoother it will run. I understand if you want no part in this … "meddling" as Bud calls it … of their lives, but believe me, it's for the better.

We've got one week to break the barrier, ladies and gentlemen. Your service would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Ex-Lieutenant Harriet Sims (A/N: She did finish at Lieutenant, right?)

P.S: What name do you like better … William or Jordie?

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject : HARRIET!!!!!!!**

HARRIET! I leave you for ONE minute. ONE MINUTE to get take out Chinese and you email EVERYONE. My BOSS, my EX-BOSS, my COWORKERS … EVERYONE.

HARRIET, THIS IS INSANE.

NO ONE IS GOING TO AGREE TO YOUR CRAZY PLAN.

And WILLIAM is sooooo much better than Jordie.

Bud

* * *

**To : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject !!!!!!!!**

SHE EMAILED GENERAL CRESSWELL!!!!!!!

You're so screwed.

Sturgis

* * *

**To : Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re !!!!!!!!!**

Shut up.

* * *

**To : Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject : Operation Yada Yada Yada**

She's holding a freaking intervention!

* * *

**To : AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re : Operation Yada Yada Yada**

Bud must be jumping out of skin right now.

* * *

**To : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re : HARRIET!!!!!!!**

Bud, don't freak out on me. I'm doing what needs to be done. For the good of Harm and Mac. I mean, honey, don't you think your best friend and my best friend deserve the kind of happiness we have?

Your Loving Wife

* * *

**To : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re : HARRIET!!!!!!!**

But that's my BOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Your Disgruntled Husband

* * *

**To : Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Operation Yada Yada Yada**

So what do you think?

* * *

**To : AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re : Operation Yada Yada Yada**

Well of course we have to do it. I can't stand their sexual tension anymore.

* * *

**To : Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Operation Yada Yada Yada**

You think what YOU deal with is sexual tension? Try eight years of that.

* * *

**To : AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re : Operation Yada Yada Yada**

I never wondered why you retired.

* * *

**To : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Jen Coates (Jennifer(dot)coates(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Gordon Cresswell (gordon(dot)creswell(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: Operation Break the Barrier**

We're in.

* * *

**2042**

**Harm's Apartment**

**Mac's POV**

"Hmmm … that's strange …" I muttered, as I set Harm's phone back down on the recharger.

"What's strange?"

I looked over at Harm, who was tucking little AJ into his bed. Harm smoothed his hand over AJ's rebellious blonde curls. "I just called Jen, and I guess she's out," I said.

"Well … Mac," Harm grinned, smart-alecky. "She's a young woman … and we're in _London_."

"I know, I know," I said, rolling my eyes. "I understand Jen being out. But so is Sturgis."

"Again, Mac …"

"And Bud, and Harriet, and the Admiral, and the General, and …" I began, but Harm cut me off.

"Why are you calling the Admiral and the General?" he interrupted.

"I wanted to ask about our next Partnership Building Class thing," I said.

Harm's face drew a blank.

I laughed to him. "Things just zoom in one ear and out the other, don't they?"

"I always felt the need for speed," he said and I found myself smiling at him. His breath seemed to deepen, his eyes penetrating mine. My heart started to beat quicker. _Good lord …_

"Uncle Harm?"

We broke our gaze.

"Yeah, Jimbo?" Harm said, looking to the other side of the bed where Jimmy laid curled against his older brother (how precious is that?)

Jimmy looked up at Harm dolefully. He batted his big brown eyes. "I didn't brush my teeth."

Harm feigned shock. "_You didn't?_ What were you doing in the bathroom for so long?"

Jimmy bit his lower lip. "I was peeing."

I burst out laughing, and Harm did too. "Alright, come on, sport," Harm said, and picked Jimmy up off the bed. Jimmy giggled, and Harm put him on his shoulders. He turned back to me, standing next to the bed.

"Hey, Mac, maybe you should read AJ a bedtime story …" Harm said, while walking backwards to the door.

"Yeah, Harm, but – "

"I think I have a few kid books in the shelf to the right, but otherwise … well, just use your imagination …"

"Harm! Watch ou –"

Harm whirled around and as he did so, Jimmy's head clunked against the ridge of the door. "Jimmy!" I exclaimed, and pulled him off Harm's shoulders. I cradled the three year old delicately.

"You just _have_ to be over six feet, don't you?" I pressed.

Harm pushed aside my comment. "Hey, Jimmy buddy … y'okay?"

Jimmy looked up at us, a little confusedly. "Huh?"

I looked up worried. "Do you think we should take him to the ER?"

"ER, Mac? It was just a little bump."

"It was a big bump, and he's only three, Harm," I argued.

"But the twins are sleeping, and AJ's settled in and …"

I glared him down.

"And we'll put them all in the car …" Harm finished. He cast a worried look at Jimmy, running his fingers fondly through Jimmy's dark brown hair. "Come on, buddy … you're okay …"

I sighed exasperatedly, picking AJ up out of Harm's bed. "Harriet's not going to be happy about this …"

* * *

**Several Minutes Later  
Outside Harm's Apartment**

"Alright guys …" Harriet whispered. "This is it." She looked over the group. "Ready?"

"Lets just do it, Lieutenant," the Admiral barked.

She looked over at Bud, searching for signs of approval. "Okay?"

"Let's rock this joint."

Harriet hammered on the door. "Captain! Colonel!"

_Silence._

Harriet knocked again. "Harm! Mac!"

_More silence._

Bud looked at his watch. "It's nearly nine thirty … the kids are supposed to be in bed. Where are they?"

"You just missed them."

The group turned around.

"Hey, my name is Vicky. I'm the Captain's neighbor. I just saw him, a woman, and a bunch of kids go down the hall," the woman offered. "Said they were going to the ER."

"Oh shitttttttttttttt."

"The kids," Bud whispered.

"_The plan," _Harriet cried. She cast an anxious look at the clock. "_This is NOT supposed to be happening."_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Okay, yeah, it's short again. I'm really really sorry, but it's four thirty in the morning and I just can't fill anymore space. But if you're good, and you leave me some feedback (criticism, praise, whatever – I don't care), I'll update on Sunday. Scout's honor.**

**Not that I was ever a scout or anything. **


	26. Crossroad

**A/N: Okay, so I guess it's a good thing I'm not a scout. Because in my last chapter, I scouts honored I'd update Sunday. I don't know what the date was the Sunday I was supposed to be updating, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't referring to the Sunday that occurred three months later. **

**So … I suck. I know. I get it. And last chapter was a piece of crap. So I'm baffled at the 51 reviews. Honestly, guys, you set my review record for that piece of trash. I almost feel like giving the reviews back, though never in any form of sanity would I ever do that.**

**Now, I've come into the habit of tributing my chapters to something musical, so here goes. This chapter is a shout out to Jon Bon Jovi, whose birthday was seven days ago. I'll have you all know, I worship this man. He's a musical genius, guys. Musical genius.**

**Okay, enough of my shit. This chapter's titled after my favorite Bon Jovi album … and because I thought it fit. **

**Crossroad**

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com) **

From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Subject: … don't be mad …

Hey,

Okay, it's a crazy story but you're not picking up your phone. Where are you guys?? I tried your hotel there, and your hotel here. Why the hell did you give me so many contact numbers when you're not going to BE at any of them?

Alright, well, you're probably wondering why I'm freaking out at you. And I'm really not freaking out. Not much anyway. Well … no, I'm not. I've decided I'm not. I'm perfectly calm right now. Really. Harm and I are handling this just fine. Not that there's anything really big to handle …

Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. But I think we broke your kid.

Jimmy, I mean. He hit his head. Well, Harm hit his head. Well no, Harm hit Jimmy's head against the ceiling.

It sounds worse than it is, I swear. Jimmy's a little out of it, but we've taken him to the ER. I really don't think there's anything to worry about. We just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.

Oh, Harriet, I'm so sorry. I can't believe this is happening. I'm going to be the world's worst mother when I have a kid. If I have a kid. Oh my god, I'm never going to have a kid. No one's gong to marry someone who killed her godson by letting a six foot four ape ram his head into the ceiling.

NOT THAT THAT HAPPENED or anything.

Jimmy's NOT going to die. In fact, there's nothing wrong with him.

Alright, I'm shutting up. Now.

Right now.

Mac

* * *

**2142  
Emergency Room  
Mac's POV**

"Is Harriet picking up?" Harm whispered.

I sat down in the chair next to him. The emergency room, even at nearly ten o'clock, was filled with people. Even at night, London never died. I sighed.

"No," I whispered back.

Harm shifted his arms, causing Jimmy, who lay fondly cuddled within his embrace, to roll over. I looked at him adoringly, and ran my hands through his short hair. I kissed his forehead, and he murmured incoherently, deep in slumber.

I sighed, and withdrew my hand.

I guess Harm could tell how worried I was because he said, "I'm sure he's fine, Mac."

I still looked troubled. I reached over to AJ, who was also asleep in his chair, with a twin on either side of him. I played with the zipper of AJ's jacket, making sure it was up to his neck. The ER doors kept opening and closing every thirty seconds, and we were fairly near it. I didn't want him getting cold.

"Mac," Harm said.

I ignored him, fiddling with Nikki now, though she was asleep.

"Mac," Harm repeated.

"What?" I snapped at him. He looked at me with calm blue eyes. I felt my voice quiver. "What, Harm? What?"

He exhaled. "Stop worrying."

I looked down.

"Come here," he said.

I didn't move, but I didn't have to. He wrapped his free arm around me, and leaned me in so my back was to his chest, and head to his shoulder. Jimmy rested next to me, curled safely in Harm's lap. I shivered, but slightly relaxed, amazed by the intimacy of this action.

"I'm sorry," Harm whispered, lips in my hair.

"It's not really your fault, Harm," I said softly. My whole mind felt cloudy, absurdly at ease with his body heat. "I saw it coming, I didn't warn you fast enough."

Harm was quiet for a long moment, and then, "I don't just mean Jimmy, Mac."

I shifted a little against his chest to look at him.

He continued. "I mean … I'm sorry. About everything. I'm sorry." He looked down. "I've really screwed up when it's come to us."

"Harm, don't –" I began, but he cut me off.

"No," he said calmly. His blue eyes gazed at me penetratingly. "Just … let me say what I have to say. Then you can speak, or yell or … whatever. Just please. You're going away in three days, and I have to tell you this before you leave. I need to."

I was touched by the sincerity in his voice.

"Okay," I whispered, not breaking his gaze for a second.

"Okay," he said. His breath quivered for a second, and I could feel the unease ripple through me. The sensation bubbled from within his chest and radiated through my body. His right hand gently stroked my arm.

I shivered though I wasn't cold.

"Mac," he whispered slowly.

I was suddenly very struck by how lovely my name was when he said it.

"I've screwed up," he said bluntly. "I know I've screwed up a lot over the last ten years. More times than I can possibly count. And you've given me chance after chance, and I kept blowing it. And … and then I asked you to marry me …" He laughed hollowly. "God, I was an idiot."

"Harm –" I tried to cut in.

"Mac," he said forcefully. He exhaled. "Please."

I fell silent and struggled to meet his eyes. I nodded.

He continued.

"I just … I wanted to let you know that … the biggest mistake, hands down, was this year. Us not talking. Because I can't stand it, Mac. I really can't," he whispered. "I … I used to open up my inbox everyday, just looking for your name. I used to think about calling you all the time. It drove me nuts. I just can't take us not talking. I'm so glad you're here now. You have no clue."

There's something about the way his voice pleads with me. Something about his eyes as they devour me. Something about _him _that's driving me passionately wildly insane for him.

"I just …" Harm whispered. "I just needed you to know that, Mac. I know I've been an idiot in the past, but please. Lets never lose touch. Please. I just couldn't stand it if you walked out of my life again. I … I really need you. Really."

I stared at him.

He looked almost timidly at me. "You can speak now."

I felt my voice catch in my throat. What do you say to a speech like that?

"I …" I began. "I …"

Harm stared me down.

"God, Harm, I need you too," I whispered. I felt this rush of emotion, and looked up to see his just as affected eyes. I bit my lip. "I know maybe it hasn't always come across to you how much … how much I really need you. Because I do, Harm. I may not have told you that always, or always shown it, but I need you. This last year … it's been hell for me too." My voice begins to break. "I wanted so much to talk to you. To email you. To call you. But it's like we'd had this unofficial code of silence that I wasn't allowed to break. I just … I'm so sorry."

I'm crying. I can't believe it but I am.

I was never good with these emotional moments.

Harm laughs kind of nervously, and – almost bashfully – takes a shaky hand and wipes away a stray tear from my cheek. I begin to laugh too and we're suddenly a couple of chuckling idiots.

I lean into his body and his arms readily envelope me, with Jimmy kind of squished between us. My head sort of tucks itself into his chest, and he starts to kiss my hair. A shiver runs through me.

Does he know what he's doing to me? Does he?

And then suddenly he stops, and the comfort, the ease, that his body always seems to possess vanishes. He's rigid. I look up to him, somewhat bewildered, and there's this look in his eyes. This deep, passionate, but confused look. It soaks me in.

"Harm …?" I whispered questioningly.

His hand, which had been gently stroking my back, stops, and beings to push gently forward.

Closer to him.

"Harm?" I whisper again, but he keeps pushing forward. Slowly, I arch towards him, and he pulls me to his body with both arms. Internally, my senses are tingling all over. I can feel his one hand on my back, and the other on my arm. His eyes are so deep. I see him gently shift Jimmy onto the seat beside us, and the three year old quickly adapts to his change in location.

"Harm …" I whisper for the third and final time. I'm edging closer.

Our lips are so close.

_He has a girlfriend! _my mind mentally screams. _He's taken! He's not yours! What are you doing? Get away! NOW!_

He's edging closer to now with that same intimate intense look that I'm sure I possess. I can feel the heat, thick and passionate, radiating between the two of us. I'm melting inside, and enjoying every millisecond of it.

_He's taken …_

I can feel his breath on my lips.

_He's got a girlfriend …_

We're less than a centimeter apart.

_He's not yours …_

And our lips come crashing into each other. The prolonged agony, the whispers of fondness and affection, come pouring through in a frenzied soul-searing kiss. I can feel him slam my back into the chair, and it rattles, surprised at his force. My hands clutch his hair, and his tongue enters my mouth, in a frantic exploration. I cling to him, as though if I were to let go, this moment – this magical, beautiful, _wonderful _moment – would somehow disappear.

"Mac …" he whispers against my lips.

I pay no attention to him. Our tongues duel once again. I break apart for air.

"Mac …" he whispers.

I lean in once more, but he stops me. I look up.

"We can't … not here …" he said, and I feel struck by the terrifyingly embarrassing realization that we _are_ in a hospital with _four _children surrounding us. Heat creeps from my neck into my cheeks and I glow red.

He smiles, but there's something in his eyes. This shadow. I see it, and I fear it.

We edge apart, and his arms release me. I now stay sitting in my chair. Wondering … hoping … praying.

"James Roberts?" a voice calls.

We look up at a nurse, clad in white, who stood smiling at the doorway. "Dr. Atridge will see you now."

Harm stands up with Jimmy, and I motion to him that I'll stay here with AJ and the twins. Harm nods, and moves to take Jimmy through the double doors. He pauses, and looks back at me. His perilous blue eyes draw to me, as though searching for an answer to a question that torments him. He bites his lower lip, my heart pumps, and then …

He leaves.

I release a shaky breath, and lean back in the chair, head swarming with thoughts. But only one really resonates.

_What if he thinks it's a mistake?_

* * *

**A/N: Alright, it's a little short, but not bad considering last chapter ... Yeah. So, they finally kissed. More to come. I'm on March Break so, hey, I can update later this week. Woot. **

**So leave a comment. A question. A theory. I don't care, but if you reviewed last chapter – which I'm still appalled that you would – please review this one. Because this one, your thought really does matter.**

**I live of your guys' feedback. **


	27. Be Like That

**A/N: See, I told you I'd update later this week. For once, I kept my word. I'll try and update next weekend … and for all those still waiting on some sort of conclusion to ATJP, I'm still writing it. Really. However dormant it seems. **

**Name of this chapter came from the song I was listening to while writing it. 'Be Like That' by 3 Doors Down. Great band, great song. Okay, yeah, to the chapter …**

**Be Like That**

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Subject: WHERE ARE YOU?**

Hey Harriet,

Okay, you haven't replied to my last email so I'm officially worried. You NEVER go THREE minutes without checking your email. What could you and Bud possibly be doing at this time of the night that doesn't allow you to check your email?

... BESIDES that.

I swear to god, Harriet, if you're doing the mattress mambo while I'm in the ER with your four children there will be hell to pay. HELL.

And besides that, I've got a major problem. I can't even begin to explain it over email. You'll freak out way too much over my last one, and I can't risk you getting a hernia or something over what I'm about to tell you.

Want to tell you.

Because I'm not actually going to tell you in this email, I should though, because I have no clue what to do. I really need counseling. explain to me, Harriet, why it feels like I have a hundred guy friends but you're my ONLY girl friend? Really?

I have Bud, Harm, Sturgis, yada yada yada, and you. You.

And it's not that I don't appreciate you, Harriet. Of COURSE I do. But ... God, where IS everyone? I've tried calling you, Sturgis, I even tried Jen. JEN. And I like Jen and everything but God, Harriet, I was about to seek emotional advice from a twenty-something. A TWENTY-SOMETHING.

Where are you?

I repeat.

WHERE ARE YOU?????

* * *

**2148  
Outside Harm's Apartment**

"Where ARE they?" Harriet cried in exasperation. She slammed her fist forcefully against the door. It rattled from her assault.

The Admiral leaned himself against the opposing wall. "Well," he sighed. "This was a bloody waste of time."

Sturgis chuckled. "Something always goes wrong with interventions. Compared to what I've seen, this is a relatively minor flaw."

"Oh yeah, and what have you seen?" inquired The General, quite genuinely interested.

"Well when I was on the USS Patrick Henry I had this buddy ..."

"Hey, Harriet, why don't you just email Mac?" Bud offered. "She carries her blackberry around even more than you do."

Harriet rolled her eyes. "Okay, but Mac would have usually emailed me if ... if ... my batteries are dead."

"What?"

"My batteries are dead!" Harriet slammed the back of her blackberry and two batteries fell out.

"Bud, give me yours."

"What? No!"

"Come on, Bud."

"Hey, you wasted your batteries emailing Mac all weekend

"Bud, GIVE ME YOURS DAMMIT."

Sturgis smirked. "Better do what she says. She's got you whipped."

Harriet glared at him.

Bud sighed and forfeited his batteries and Harriet pushed them in. "Okay, I've got two emails from Mac ... wait ... oh my god, oh my god. We need to get to the ER. NOW."

* * *

**2152  
ER Room  
Mac's POV**

"She's still not picking up?"

I re-entered the room, and threw my cell phone into my purse, "nope."

Harm sighed somewhat distractedly. I looked up at him and then immediately looked away. I felt my cheeks burn. Harm looked down at the floor.

This absolutely gnawing silence seemed to envelope us. I looked up at his tousled hair, his slightly kiss swollen lips, and felt myself shudder. I hated this feeling; this feeling of complete and utter insecurity.

Because that's what I was, insecure, I was insecure with this whole situation. Two weeks ago, I was on my feet. Okay, so I didn't have a significant other. So what? I was _comfortable. _I had good friends, a good job, a stable life, and now? Now all I have is the ever painful reminder of exactly what I'm missing, exactly why my life is far from perfect. And I have Harm to thank for that.

"Alright, can you follow the light with your eyes?"

Jimmy nodded. "Okay."

Jimmy. He was a beautiful little boy. And I'm not saying that just because he's my godson and everything. He truly is a good looking kid. He's a bit unlike the other Roberts kids in the way that instead of the apparently uniform blonde hair and blue eyes, he's got shockingly dark hair and black eyes. In fact, he looks somewhat like what mine and Harm's child might look like. If we should ever have one, that is.

Not that we would.

I sighed and picked up Mitch, who was rolling restlessly in his baby bucket. "He's okay," I whispered to Harm. "He has to be okay. He's okay, right?"

"He's okay," Harm whispered almost rabidly. "He's okay. He's okay."

Dr. Attridge put down the light and turned back to us. "Jimmy's okay."

We both heaved a huge sigh of relief. "That's great because –"

"JIMMY!"

The door flings open to reveal one very frantic somewhat insane looking blonde woman who immediately bolts forward, seizing a very frightened three-year-old Jimmy Roberts. Of course, we know exactly who that nutcase is.

"Harriet, he's okay!" I said, but she was paying me very little attention.

"Oh, Mummy was so worried about you!" she cried, kissing every inch of Jimmy's skin that she could see. "Are you okay, darling?"

"Mom," AJ drawled. "Lay off, he's okay."

"AJ!" Bud's finally caught up with his wife. "We don't use that kind of language."

I looked over. Standing in the doorway to one very cramped examining room were none other than both Roberts's parents, Jen, Gunny, Sturgis, Tiner, Admiral Chegwidden, and General Creswell. For a second, my mouth just hangs open. Luckily Harm isn't nearly so stunned.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"What are we doing here?" Sturgis countered in typical lawyer-fashion. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Jimmy hurt himself."

"Right, with no help from you," AJ Roberts snickered.

Harm cast him a half annoyed and half amused look. "Bud, control your kid."

"I'm sorry sir, but he's going through his sarcasm phase," Bud shrugged. "He'll grow out of it soon though. It's been a couple of months."

"Just pray it's a phase," I said. I cast a weighty look at Harm. "There are a couple of people I know who are still waiting on an end to that phase ..."

"Okay, thanks for the input, Colonel," Harm said loudly.

I grinned at him.

For a second, it was as if we were back to our old bantering ways. As thought we hadn't just kissed, our lives hadn't just changed, as if our relationship remained as it always had a limitless friendship.

"But really," Harm said. "Why are you guys all here?"

A shift of uneasy glances rippled around the group, with the ending result as all eyes on Harriet. Harm and I glared pointedly at Harriet.

"Well … don't look at me, you broke my kid."

"Harriet!" I exclaimed in somewhat strangled amusement. "Why are you guys all here?"

"Oh just … little JAG meeting … that's all …" Harriet said. Immediately everyone's eyes cast off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, at nearly ten at night," Harm said.

"While you and Bud are on your 'romantic vacation'," I added.

"Without two of your most senior officers," Harm threw out.

"You know what I think its time for?" the Admiral said loudly. "I think it's time we all go home. General, Colonel, Captain, Commanders, Gunny, Petty Officer, and uh … Harriet …"

Harriet smiled. "I think that's a wonderful idea, sir."

"And we'll just take the kids," Bud added. "Since we're here and all."

"Um, sure," Harm said. We cast a somewhat dismayed look between the two of us. As much work as the Roberts kids were, there was a lot of fun. It was fun pretending as though we were parents, as though we had a family. And it also, somewhat innocently, posed the perfect opportunity for us to spend limitless time with each other while under the pretense of babysitting.

Okay, well, maybe the babysitting part is real.

Kind of.

I mean, they are washed, clothed, and fed, right?

"Alright, guys," Sturgis said somewhat dully. "File out."

We obliged.

* * *

**  
Same Time**

**Same Place**

**Harm's POV**

"Well, that was exciting," the Admiral sighed, once we were in the parking lot. The once dark blue sky had washed into a shade of black, scattered pierced by stars. He sucked in a large breath of fresh night air, and then towards the General. "Can I get a ride back to headquarters?"

"Of course, AJ," the general turned back to us. "Anyone else need a ride to HQ?"

"I wouldn't mind one," Gunny piped up. "I left a couple of things there that I want to get for tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll come too," Tiner said.

Sturgis turned towards Bud and Harriet. "You guys want a ride with me?" He cast a look at the four tired Roberts children. "I have a van …"

"That'd be great of you, Sturgis."

All eyes flipped towards Mac and me.

"Well … I have a car …" I said.

"Oh, great, sir," Jenny suddenly piped up. "Do you think you could give me a ride back to the hotel?"

Harriet sharply elbowed her.

"Actually, Jen, I have room for one more in the van," Sturgis said quickly. "I mean …" he cast a swift look at his six ride-along. "It'll be a little crowded …"

"That's fine," I interrupted. "I can drive you, Jen."

"No, that won't be necessary," Harriet said just as quickly. "Jen, you're coming with us. That's settled."

And with that, she tugged her towards the van. "Night, Captain! Colonel!"

"Goodnight, Harriet," we both said somewhat hollowly.

"Well," the General said, turning towards us. "We best be off too. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

And with that, we were alone standing in the hospital parking lot. For a second, Mac and I just looked at each other, as thought uncertain what to do, and then … we burst out laughing.

"Did you see that? _The eight of them are going to crowd in a van!" _Mac crowed.

"I bet you it only has seven seats," I said, shaking my head laughing. "All vans have seven seats. Not eight."

"The Admiral, the General, Tiner, and Gunny going back to the office! _At ten o'clock!"_

"Was that not the most bogus thing you've ever seen?" I bellowed.

Mac shook her head, suddenly growing more serious. "They're up to something."

"They didn't want Jen riding with us," I said, as we walked towards my car.

"Well that was pretty obvious," Mac said, opening the car door. "Harriet's never been subtle with elbow jabs."

I looked at her, somewhat in wonderment. "Why do you think they didn't want Jen with us?"

Mac grew quiet beside me, and then finally she said, "They wanted us to be alone."

My eyes flipped to meet hers.

"I don't know what they're doing, Harm," she said quietly. "But Harriet's planned something. And we're right in the middle of it."

* * *

**To: Admiral Chegwidden (ajchegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: Rendezvous**

Rendezvous at the hotel parking lot.

We've got some serious work to do if we're going to pull this off.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Admiral Chegwidden (ajchegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Rendezvous**

Harriet,

As much as I've always had a taste for your somewhat … creative … plans, I'm slightly worried. This one's pretty over the top, even for you. There's a good chance they could come out of this absolutely hating us.

AJ

* * *

**To: Admiral Chegwidden (ajchegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Re: Rendezvous**

Now, Admiral, this is not a time for pessimism. Everything must go absolutely perfectly if we expect to pull this off. This is opp's going to go down at exactly midnight. I expect all stations to be manned and for there to be constant communication between them. Blackberries out.

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Admiral Chegwidden (ajchegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Rendezvous**

Aye, aye, ma'am.

* * *

**2312**

**Parking Lot**

**Mac's POV**

"Thanks for the ride," I smiled at Harm.

He smiled back. "You're welcome."

For a second we just sat there in his car, neither of us moving, neither of us willing to move. I looked away. "Okay, well … see you tomorrow …"

"I'll walk you to your door," Harm said quickly.

I looked at him somewhat awkwardly. "You don't have to do that."

"It's alright," Harm smiled. "I want to."

I looked at him uncertainly. "Okay …"

We exited his car and walked through the main lobby, resting as we waited for an elevator. An unsettling silence developed between the two of us. I looked over at Harm, and then away as he looked at me. I fiddled with the zipper of my jacket.

The elevator dinged as it reached our floor. We entered.

"Mac …" Harm said softly.

I looked over at him.

"I really think we should talk," he said quietly.

"About?"

He looked exasperatedly. "You _know _what about."

I looked away. Yeah, I knew what about. But I could hear it in his voice. See it in his eyes. He didn't want me the way I wanted him. I felt this sort of eruption of frustration. _We can't keep doing this dance. _

"Mac …" he whispered.

I shuddered at the sound of my name. "Please, Harm," I whispered. "Let's not talk."

"Mac, we have to. There's … there's definitely things that need to be said."

I looked away. "I don't have anything to say."

"What happened before …" Harm began, but I cut him off.

"What happened before was a mistake," I said. I couldn't look him in the eye. "I … I don't know why I did that. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

A raw silence filled the elevator.

I looked over at Harm. He just stared at me, the oddest expression on his face, a completely unreadable expression. His voice quivered. "Oh."

The elevator dinged as we reached our floor. I walked gingerly out and Harm followed me.

"Mac," he said again.

Something inside me was hurting. It was this terrible incessant ache that shook me from head to toe. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. What was I doing? What had I just said?

"Mac …"

"I'm sorry," I said, as we stood outside my door. "I'm sorry, Harm, I just can't do this."

"Mac, we have to talk …"

"No, we can't. Please. I just can't." _It hurts too much. _"Talking won't solve anything."

I opened the door, Harm stood firmly rooted behind me. I looked up at him, eyes begging. "I just can't do the dance anymore."

I turned to move through the door but his words stopped me.

"I'm not running, Mac."

I looked up at him. There was a very chilling sort of intensity in his eyes.

"I'm not running. Not anymore," he shook his head. "Not from you."

And with that, he left.

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Jason Tiner (Jason(dot)tiner(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: Phase 1**

Subject A in place. Subject B on route.

I Repeat: Subject A in place. Subject B on route.

P.S: If you'd just heard the dialogue I heard between Subject A and B, your head would be exploding right now.

* * *

**A/N: Look for more next weekend. And on a different note, WHO SAW GREY'S ANATOMY ON THURSDAY??? I know, I know, you guys are all too high class to watch such a trashy show but on the off chance you did, review or PM me. I'm killing to talk to someone about it.**

**Oh yeah, same goes for Lost. Dammit, all the good shows aired some excellent stuff this week. Except for SVU, who yet gave me another repeat. But why am I telling you this? … You guys are JAG …**

**Oh well. **


	28. Too Bloody Long

**A/N: Okay, I know I promised you a chapter this weekend and as it's ... Sunday afternoon now, I figured I should update. If there are spelling/punctuation problems, don't crucify me. I was in such a rush to get this chapter out I didn't get it betad.**

**I also must apologize for any resemblance this chapter has to the end of the Sarah Jessica Parker movie 'Failure to Launch'. For those of you who read this the first time I posted it ... I've had this ending since when I started that story, which was before the movie came out. Though I must say, it was wicked cool to see one of my scenes across the big screen. **

**Too Bloody Long**

**To: Jason Tiner (jason(dot)tiner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: Phase A**

Alright, all's ready. Phase A is about to commence. I want you at your station, do you read? At your station. Is everyone at their posts? As soon as I give you the go-ahead, I want you to alert Bud as quickly as possible.

Do you read me?

Harriet

* * *

**To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**From: Jason Tiner (jason(dot)tiner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re: Phase A**

I copy.

Jason

* * *

**2213**

**Mac's Hotel Room**

**Mac's POV**

_Knock knock._

I looked over at the door, halfway through to taking my shirt off as I slipped on my pyjamas. I sighed, and pulled on my Bon Jovi sleeping shirt, and then moved for the door. It's Harm, I thought dully. It's Harm and he wants to talk. At ten thirteen the night before he has to give a huge seminar, he wants to talk.

_Knock knock._

"I'm coming!" I called and pulled open the door. "Really Harm, I said I didn't want to - Oh, Harriet." I flushed pink. "I thought you were ... uh ..."

"Harm, I know," Harriet finished for me. She stepped quickly into my hotel. "Mac, I need your help."

I looked over at her, frowning in mild worry. "What's wrong? Are the kids okay?"

"Oh yeah, they're fine," Harriet said. I could hear the strain in her voice. There was something offhanded about the whole thing. She looked around the room, somewhat nervously. "Bud and I had a fight," she whispered.

I looked over at her. "Really?" I said. I mean, okay, Bud and Harriet fought. All married couples did. But they never really fought seriously. They fought over little stuff. Baby names, who's car to drive. Not anything that usually warranted my counseling. "What about?"

Harriet looked up at me. "He doesn't know if he wants another baby," she whispered.

I opened my mouth in shock. "What? But Bud was so excited about the baby!"

"I know," Harriet said depressingly. "But after tonight with Jimmy and everything ... he just really thinks four children is enough. And I know four kids are a lot to manage. I know, but ... but I'm pregnant already. I just. He wants me to get an abortion but I just ... I can't ..."

"Of course not, Harriet," I said, scandalized. I wrapped my arms around my friend. "I don't even know how Bud could consider asking you to have an abortion. I would have never expected that to come from Bud's mouth."

I felt white hot anger burn me. "You know what? I'm going to talk to him."

"Oh, Mac, you don't have to," Harriet said quickly. "I can do this myself. Just being the good friend you are is enough."

"No, it's not," I said forcefully. "Bud was really out of line with that. I'm coming down with you to help talk to him. I don't want you to have to face this alone."

I turned my back to Harriet, opening the door to the hotel. And a smirking Harriet followed.

* * *

**To: Jason Tiner (jason(dot)tiner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)**

**Subject: Go.**

The hen has left the roost. I repeat.

The hen has left the roost.

Harriet

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hotel Parking Lot**

**Harm's POV**

"Sir!"

I turned around. "Bud," I grinned, standing in front of my car. I looked down at the man, carrying one of the twins in either arm with Bud and Jimmy at his side. "You definitely look like you have your hands full, Commander."

Bud nodded exhaustedly. "Harriet ran off with Mac to talk about something, leaving me with the kids." Bud looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Sir, if it wouldn't be too much trouble ... do you think you could help me take the kids back to the room? Jimmy's about ready to drop dead."

Just as Bud said that, Jimmy began to wobble a little, eyes drooping with fatigue. I smiled and nodded. "Sure, Bud," I said and I picked Jimmy up. "Let's go."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hotel Hallway**

**Mac's POV**

"Harriet, where are we going?" I asked as Harriet plowed down the third floor hallway. "Your hotel's a floor up."

"I know, I know," Harriet said, "But Bud's waiting for me in the hotel conference room."

"Why would he be waiting for you there?"

"Because he was discussing something with the Admiral there and now he's just packing up his papers," Harriet said swiftly but she wouldn't meet my eye. I felt a prickle of suspicion rise deep within my stomach and course through my body.

"Harriet ..." I said slowly as we descended onto the main floor. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Harriet replied, voice uncharacteristically high. "Don't you trust me?"

I thought about it for a second. "Yes."

Harriet winked at me.

Pregnant women whose husbands just told them to get an abortion do not wink cheerfully. Sure, this was my first time dealing with one, but they don't. They just don't. Which could only mean one thing; there was something wrong with this situation.

Something really seriously wrong.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hotel Hallway**

**Harm's POV**

"Bud ...?" I trailed questioningly. "Why are we going this way?"

Bud looked at me innocently. "Why shouldn't we go this way?"

"Because this isn't the way to your hotel room."

Bud released what I saw to be a nervous chuckle. "Oh, didn't I mention it? I have to stop by the hotel conference room and pick up some papers."

"Do you want me to just take the kids upstairs then?"

"No," Bud said quickly. "It's okay, I'll just be a second. Really."

"Are you sure, Bud? 'Cause they look pretty beat ..."

"They're fine," Bud said. His eyes refused to meet mine.

"Bud?" I said. Suspicion crept into my voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Really, sir." Bud's voice was almost staccato. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm fine. Really."

"Commander ..." I trailed warningly. We came to the entrance of the conference room. "What aren't you telling me?"

The calm facade that Bud had possessed up till now seemed to fade and crumble before me. He looked at me, white faced and wide eyed. "Sir, if this doesn't work out ... I want you to know, it wasn't my idea and I'm so sorry."

"Slow down, Bud. What are you talking about?"

"I just want what's best for you. We all just want what's best for you. The both of you, that is. You have to believe me. We wouldn't have done it otherwise. But you left us no other option, Sir." Bud's words were stumbling. "Don't hate us."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Other Hotel Hallway**

**Mac's POV**

Harriet looked at me, somewhat apprehensively. She sighed, "You just HAD to wear a baggy band t-shirt didn't you?"

I was somewhat affronted. "Well, I was getting ready for bed and ... hey, I like this shirt. Bon Jovi owns."

Harriet rolled her eyes.

"What does it matter anyway?" I said. "I'm just coming with you to talk to Bud."

I scrutinized her face as I said this. A flicker of an unnamed expression crossed her face, then just as quickly disappeared. I thought about Harriet, how awkwardly she'd acted at the hospital, and right now ... Oh god, was I caught up in another one of her plans? Again?

"Harriet," I said nervously. "What's going on? Just tell me. Please."

"Mac," Harriet whispered soothingly. "Everything's fine. Just relax, dear."

"No, where are you taking me?" I felt like hollering but couldn't muster the energy. How had this night become so crazy? "Harriet!" I repeated louder. "Where are we going?"

"Shh," Harriet hushed me. "You don't need to shout. We're going to the conference room, I told you."

"Why?"

"To meet Bud."

We approached the conference room door. "Harriet, I know there's something going on."

"Mac," Harriet said. She sighed. "Keep in mind, I'm your best friend. You're my best friend. And we'll be friends, I hope, for many years to come. So just remember that when you're in there? We love you, which is why we're doing this."

"What are you doing? Who are you talking about?" My voice is suddenly urgent. "Harriet, _what is going on?"_

"Promise me, you'll keep an open mind."

"What?"

"Just promise me, Mac!" Harriet exclaimed.

"Fine, okay, but –"

"We're all rooting for you."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hallway**

**Harm's POV**

"Good luck, Sir," Bud said, taking Jimmy out of his hands.

"Bud ..."

"Wait," he said and thrusted a pack of Menthos in my hand. "Just ... for breath, you know."

And with that, he pushed me through the door.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hallway**

**Mac's POV**

"Oh god, I'm so excited for you." Harriet's practically bursting. Her eyes shone. "This is it. The moment."

"Harriet!"

"Good luck."

And I was sent hurtling through the door.

* * *

**Moment After**

**Hallway**

**No POV**

On both entrances to the conference room, the doors were slammed shut, with the locks clicked in place. Almost instantly, the chorusing babble of six excited people erupted.

"They're in," Sturgis repeated, almost dumbfounded. "I can't believe they're in."

"Together," the Admiral added.

"They're in together," Bud whispered.

"I KNEW we could do it!" Harriet excitedly stressed.

"Hey guys!" Tiner called. They hastened over to where he sat in the lobby, fingers racing over the laptop. "I hacked into the hotel security," he explained in a whispered voice. "We've got them on camera."

He placed the laptop before them on the table and at once a dozen people gathered around.

"Come on, guys," The Admiral whispered. "We've waited too bloody long ..."

* * *

**A/N: If you're good and review, i'll update next weekend :P **


	29. Brighter Than Sunshine

**A/N: Hey guys, long time no see. Okay, so I haven't updated in an eternity. I know. But then I got a review the other day asking for an update, so I took a look at TLWL and realized … god, I was so fucking close to finishing this. How the hell could I stop?**

**So here I am. Four months later, asking you for your forgiveness. Because, it's been two years since I started this story. And I'm officially sick of the guilt of not finishing it. So will you hang in with me?**

**Cuz we have a story to finish.**

**P.S: Might be a good idea to read the last chapter over again, just to refresh your memory … I would do my normal flashback thing, but the last chapter was all emails, so I think you can read it on your own.**

**Brighter Than Sunshine**

**2228  
Hotel Conference Room  
Mac's POV**

"Hey."

"Hey."

We stared at each other, rooted, and uncomfortable. He was at the far entrance across the room, hands in his pockets, eyes nervously cast down to the floor. I was at my entrance, with every square inch of me hating Harriet Roberts.

"They've locked us in here," Harm said.

Quite the taste he has for stating the obvious.

I uselessly jiggled the knob of the door beside me. It didn't budge. I sighed. "Yes, they have."

A thick suffocating silence drowned the room. Neither of us moved. I cast a fleeting look at Harm, whose eyes were inspecting the floor as though the invisible words written on it were of intense interest.

"They want us to talk," he said finally. His words resonate painfully. He looks up at me, our eyes catching for a second. "And it's not such a bad idea, Mac."

I felt my throat tighten. "Not such a bad idea?" I choked hoarsely. "Harm, we're locked in a room. You've got a seminar to give tomorrow. I'm sleep-deprived. We both want to be anywhere but here …"

"Mac," Harm said gently, effectively cutting my would-be rant short. "Why are you so opposed to talking to me?"

I felt a stab of guilt at the heartbroken sincerity of his question. Opposed to talking to him? I loved talking to Harm. Honestly. I did. Sometimes talking to him was the only thing that could make me feel good.

It was also sometimes one of the only things that could make me feel as if I'd hit rock bottom.

And I knew that feeling all too well. Every time I felt that I was coming even close to reaching Harm, that we were getting close to something real, his words just pulled the rug from under my feet. That was how powerful they were.

And that power scared me.

"I'm not opposed to talking to you, Harm," I whispered. My eyes were downcast. "It's just so much easier not to."

Somewhere outside, thunder rumbled and the sound of heavy rainfall on gravel drowned the silence between us. My eyes were trained on the dark green carpet beneath my feet. For being feet apart, Harm and I seemed miles away.

* * *

**Same Time**  
**Room Across the Hall  
**

"Come on, guys," Harriet whispered savagely at Tiner's laptop. Beside her, Bud sat squished into the same arm chair, and around her the rest of the JAGs circled, eyes trained on the image before her. A live video feed. A live video feed of Harm and Mac locked in the next room. To anyone else, locking two people in a room together against their will and then monitoring them on video might seem unethical and arguably a bit cruel. To the JAG crew, it was an obvious display of their love for Harm and Mac.

"_It's not that I'm opposed to talking to you, Harm … It's just so much easier not to."_

"Oh, fuck this," the Admiral spat, forfeiting his spot on the sofa to pace around the room.

Or well, at least it displayed their frustration with them.

"What are these guys _doing?" _Harriet stretched. Her blue eyes looked shiny and desperate. _"Why can't they see they love each other?"_

Bud rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. "You know, Harriet, maybe we've all been seeing a little too much into this. We all know Harm and Mac are good friends, and sure, they've sometimes let on they might want to be a little more, but at some point, we just have to accept that whatever happens is up to them. If they really want a relationship, they will make one."

"I just can't believe that after all this time they aren't together," Jen said dully. All around her, eyebrows soared. She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I know you've known them a lot longer than I've known them. And I know you've been saying this longer than I've been saying it. But whatever. I'm right, aren't I?"

Harriet nodded her head tiredly. "You're right. They should have been together years ago."

Sturgis wiped his eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to break it to you, but it's getting late, Harm and Mac aren't doing anything. There's no admission of feelings, no verbal introspection. This was a bad idea. Let's just let them out and all get some sleep, okay?"

Harriet looked down. "Fine," she mumbled, getting up.

Bud stood as well, kissing his wife's hair gently. "It was a good idea, Harriet. But no matter how hard you try, you just can't make two people see when they refuse to open their eyes."

"Bud's right," The Admiral said. He scratched the back of his head, walking towards the doors. "Now shall we release our prisoners?"

"Yeah, I've got the keys right–"

"Wait!" Tiner shouted.

Six heads all turned simultaneously.

Tiner's eyes were glued to the laptop. "They're talking again."

* * *

**Same Time  
Conference Room  
Harm's POV**

"You kissed me."

Her words resonated loudly against the silence that the room had developed. I looked up from sitting against one of the desks. Her eyes were no longer cast at the ground. Rather, they faced mine. Boldly. Defiantly.

"I kissed you," I repeated.

Her eyes soaked me in.

"You kissed me and you have a girlfriend," she whispered. Her voice held no anger. No underlying resentment. Instead, there was a tremble of something quite like insecurity. Something quite like fear.

"I kissed you and I have a girlfriend," I said slowly.

She looked down, pushing a stubborn strand of dark hair from in front of her eyes. She suddenly seemed very small. Mac had always seemed relatively small to me. She was a lot shorter than me, and a lot thinner. But now she seemed small, even by Mac-standards.

"Why?" she whispered. Her voice quivered with an emotion I couldn't place. Her eyes didn't meet mine.

"Why what?" I asked slowly, buying time. My mind had gone alarmingly blank.

She tilted her head up, and her wide brown eyes bore holes into me. "Why did you kiss me?"

Why had I kissed her? The question echoed in my mind. I closed my eyes, the memory of it washing over me and leaving my body tingling. I'd kissed her with absolutely no thought in my head. No thought of Jean, no thought of our future, of its meaning. With no though, I'd kissed her with more feeling than anything in the world.

"Because," I said slowly. My blue eyes stayed transfixed on her. "I needed you to know."

Her eyes refused to leave mine, voice dropping to just above a whisper. She shifted against the desk she was leaning on. "Know what?"

I closed my eyes. This was it, I thought dully. My heart pounded. This loud buzzing sound overtook my ears, and my mind seemed to glaze over, as though giving up processing all thoughts currently running through my head. I bit my lip, and fought to keep my voice steady.

"How I feel about you," I whispered.

* * *

**Same Time  
Next Room**

"Oh. My. God."

Harriet punctuated every word by slamming her palm to the table. From her right side, Bud's hand tightened around hers. "I can't believe this is happening," he whispered, his eyes on the screen with an almost morbid fixation. "I just can't believe this is happening."

"Shut up," the General snapped at the pair, earning an approving nod from the former JAG. "They're still talking."

If at all possible, the seven people cinched closer to each other, and to the laptop. Tiner turned the volume on full, and complete silence descended upon the group as they watched Harm and Mac cinch towards each other.

* * *

**Same Time  
Next Room  
Mac's POV**

_How I feel about you._

The same five words raced through my mind with amazing speed. _How I feel about you. How I feel about you. How I feel about you. How I feel about you._

How _did _he feel about me?

I fought the urge to scream the question. I looked into his eyes, trying to find some trace of a familiar emotion. What I met was far too large and far too deep to put into words. And the intensity both thrilled and scared me.

My throat tightened and I looked up at him, grasping at confidence. "And how do you feel about me?"

The question hung in the air, falling upon us with every ounce of grace imaginable. He moved closer to me, eyes glued to mine. "More than I could ever verbalize," he whispered.

The intensity of his gaze and the passion in his voice suddenly made me acutely aware of the fact that I was clad in nothing more than a loose t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, not to mention the fact that I was fucking _trembling _in them.

Harm, as though sensing I was at a loss for words, moved towards me once more. "Mac," he whispered tenderly. I relished the sound of my name on his lips. "We have never been just friends." His eyes followed mine. "We pretended we were. We may have convinced ourselves we were. But we weren't."

His words ring with a painful sort of truth.

His eyes are deadlocked on mine as he finally comes to stand before me, taking my hand in his. His dark hair falls gently before his eyes, blue eyes searing into me with frightening passion.

"And I am _so _sick of pretending," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so that's where I'm leaving off right now. A kind of romantic cliffie (you know you enjoy them). So review! You can look for an update either Monday or Tuesday, since I'm busy all weekend. And this time I really mean I'll update either Monday or Tuesday. I'm through with lying about updates. I'll tell you if another one's not coming for a century, okay?**


	30. Feeling a Moment

**A/N: Hey guys. Delivered right on time. See …? I'm getting better. :)**

**Feeling a Moment**

**2256  
Room Across the Hall**

"_Mac, we have never been just friends. We pretended we were. We may have convinced ourselves we were. But we weren't … And I'm so sick of pretending."_

A stunned silence befell the group. Harriet blinked, eyes wide with disbelief. Her husband's lips moved reciting the words just heard, an attempt to grasp the scene before him. The admiral voiced their mutual thought. "Holy …"

"Shit," the General finished.

Sturgis cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Harriet, maybe we should, um … sort of … turn the laptop off."

Harriet cast Sturgis an aghast look.

Sturgis shifted in his seat. "It's … getting personal. Maybe we should give them some space."

"Okay, Buddy," Harriet said, tone dropping dramatically. "I know Harm's your good friend, and you have little personal opinion when it comes to the ways of Harm and Mac. But believe me when I speak for everyone here when I say, we've been in the middle of their constant circle for far too long. And we've worked too damn hard to NOT watch this."

And with that, Harriet turned to Tiner and said, "I don't suppose there's any way you could put the laptop image onto the TV, is there?"

Sturgis cast an incredulous look at Harriet, and then around the group for support. All members refused to meet his eye. They quite agreed with Harriet. Sturgis shook his head and laughed. When Harm got out of that room …

Tiner frowned. "I think I know a way I could possibly get the image onto the television … it'll take some tinkering … but I could probab-"

"Shh," Bud whispered, waving at Tiner quickly. "They're talking again."

And instantly, all seven people fell silent. Sturgis surveyed this reaction with a wry smile. It was plain to see that all members of the party were devoted to Harm and Mac in a way that went almost beyond the normal lengths of friendship. Harm and Mac had been there for them through the years, as they had them. Through thick and thin, they'd hung in there. Sturgis smiled. They were good friends, and they loved Harm and Mac a lot.

Nonetheless, he concluded, as Tiner fiddled with the laptop so he could make the camera zoom. He was very glad that his friends didn't love him _that _much.

* * *

**Same Time  
Conference Room  
Harm's POV**

"_You're_ sick of pretending?" Mac whispered, a cruel sort of incredulity etched upon her face. She laughed bitterly. "_I'm _sick of pretending. I'm sure _everyone around us _is sick of us pretending."

"Mac …" I whispered softly, but she cut me short.

"But what are we supposed to _do, _Harm?" she half-whispered/half-shouted. She threw up her hands. "What are we supposed to do? You live here in London, and I live thousands of miles away. We wasted away so many years, and now we can't even …" Mac faltered. "We can't even …"

She looked away, and I looked down. She had a good point. I felt a wave of bitter realization wash over me. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now. I was here, and she was there. It's where we had to be. I looked back up at her, and absorbed the tears in her eyes, that look on her face. No, it _did _matter, I corrected myself forcefully. _Everything _mattered.

"Mac," I whispered, closing every inch of space between us. Her eyes were to the ground, and she fervently tried to wipe the water from her eyes. I tucked some of her hair behind her one ear, grasping one of her hands with my other.

"I know that you live in San Diego and that I live in London," I said slowly. She didn't look up at me. "But," I whispered, wryly smiling. "I also know through past years, that distance has never been able to break us."

Mac looked up, somewhat surprised. "Mac …" I breathed. "If we really want this … and I mean _really _wants this … we could do it. Me and you. We could have something. I'm so sick of making excuses why we shouldn't. That we work together. That we're friends. That we live a couple fucking thousand miles away. Because in reality, if we really want this and are really willing to try, we could do it."

"But Harm," Mac whispered gently. Heartbreakingly. "We can't. I've only got three more days in London. And what are we supposed to do the rest of the year? Date online? Do you know how pathetic that even _sounds?" _Mac wiped her eyes, and laughed bitterly. "There was a reason we didn't marry a year ago. There was a reason why we never started once in the last ten years."

"And what's the reason, Mac?" I bit back. "Because right now, I can't think of a single one."

"Not one?" Mac cried incredulously. She eyes me with a look of insanity. "How about our _jobs _for one?"

"Screw our jobs, I'll give up the Navy for you," I said and then stopped. What had I just said? Mac looked at me, wide-eyed, mouth open. Instant silence befell us, thoughts circling madly in our minds.

"You'd give up the Navy for me?" Mac whispered slowly, tenderly. Her wide tear-soaked eyes drew me in.

I found myself swallowing hard. The Navy was my life. It was the reason for my existence; the reason I got up every morning. I looked back at Mac, her dark hair falling messily over her slightly red eyes, her arms goosebumped until her thin grey shirt. Mac was a better reason to get up every morning.

"Yeah," I said with an emotional conviction I didn't know I possessed. "I would give up the Navy for you."

Mac bit her lower lip as she always did when she was thinking. Her brown eyes shined. "How …" she began, but then stopped herself, turning away. She released a length breath, and turned back. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you … I mean … why?"

My throat tightened. My mind whirled back to last year, trying to convince her to marry me. The three words I'd never said. That I hadn't been prepared to say. The only three words she'd wanted to hear. I felt my head spin, and my heart hammered so loudly within my chest, I thought it would explode.

"God, Mac," I whispered feelingly, eyes absorbing hers as I leaned in even closer. "Can't you tell I'm in love with you?"

* * *

**Same Time  
Room Across the Hall**

"Someone pinch me. Someone pinch me. That did NOT just happen!" Harriet crowed. From her left side, her husband immediately acquiesced to her demand. Harriet scowled and withdrew from him. "Ow," she said, rubbing her arm.

"I can't believe this is happening," Jen whispered, with the air of an excited teenager. She looked back and forth between people, eyes finally settling on Tiner and casting him a thrilled look. "Can _you _believe this is happening?"

"I can't believe this is happening," he confirmed from his crouching position behind the television. He was still trying to get the video up on the bigger screen.

"Well," the Admiral cleared his throat. "_I_, for one, can believe this is happening."

All around him, eyebrows rose to the statement. He shrugged his shoulders. "It's Harm and Mac. We all knew they'd figure it out eventually … It just so happens that eventually is now."

"I don't know …" Bud protested. "They beat around the bush so long, one could argue that nothing might ever come of it."

"Ah well, Harm's always been somewhat of an emotion retard," Sturgis added informatively. "But, I would say …"

"Everyone, shut up!" Harriet barked quickly. "Mac's about to say something. Hurry, Tiner, zoom in!"

"I'm coming," Tiner called, leaping up from behind the TV. Mac opened her mouth to speak. Tiner dashed forward, and in one swift motion, his foot caught in the endless web of wires and he fell to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Jen called, instantly by his side.

"The signal," Harriet whispered. She slammed the keys of laptop, frantically as she surveyed the black screen before her. "The video, it's gone!"

* * *

**Same Time  
Conference Room  
Mac's POV**

"You're … what?" I whispered. My mind seems to be functioning at an incredibly slow processing rate.

"I'm. In. Love. With. You." He punctuates every word by inching a centimeter closer to my face, so that by the time he's finished, his forehead rests on mine. "And I've been for so long," he whispered.

I'm entranced by the sound of his voice and the warmth of his body. He slides his head down so that he's tilted towards me, our noses gently grazing.

"Last year, when I asked you to marry me …" he began.

"About that –" I interjected quickly, but Harm waved me down.

"Let me finish," he said calmly, and I swallowed my words. "Last year, when I asked you to marry me … You were right. I was afraid of losing you." His blue eyes blazed. "Now, I'm no longer afraid of that. I'll never lose you because I'll never forget you. Hard as I tried this past year, nothing could move your memory from me."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Now, the only thing I'm afraid of …" he whispered brokenly, "Is you leaving in three days. And how I'm supposed to go back to normal, living without you, pretending as though it's okay that you're on the other side of the world. Because it's not okay, and I can't do it, Mac. I just …"

"Harm," I whispered.

"I can't do it. It was hard enough pretending to move on this year. It was hard enough trying to take an interest in another woman. It was hard enough not hearing your voice and seeing you smile but now that you've been here for so many days …" I trailed off pathetically. "I can't go back, Mac. I can't."

"Harm," I said patiently.

"I just don't know what to do," I confessed. "We wasted so much time. We could have … years ago … I mean, we could be married right now. With kids, or something. White picket fence and all … years ago …"

"Harm," I said and grasped his hands, entwining his fingers in mine. "Shut up."

His eyebrows rise in an adorable frown. "What?"

"Shut up," I repeated. I glared somewhat humorously. "Let me talk."

He smiled and resumed silence. I took a deep breath. "Harm, we're not going back to before," I said decisively. "We can't do it again. It hurt too much." Harm nodded in agreement. "But I don't want you to leave the Navy. And I know you don't want me to leave the Marine Corps. We've been through this before."

I saw the look of worry return to Harm's eyes and I knew he was remembering last year. "So," I pressed on. "What we're going to do is figure out something. We'll do it in the next three days. We'll make this work, Harm. Because …" I took a deep breath. "That's what people who love each other do."

I watched the expression on Harm freeze. His eyes absorb me with a surprising intensity. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He just simply looks at me, his eyes begging an answer to the question his lips are unwilling to ask. He raises a hesitant eyebrow.

I smile and nod tentatively, and the most beautiful grin blesses his lips. He pulls me close and I render my body pliable to his hands. Our mouths meet gently, almost timidly at first, but the kiss grows quickly.

"You," I whisper, breaking from his mouth only to find his lips enveloping mine once more. "Are staying. In my room. Tonight," I stammer between kisses.

"No objections," he whispers thickly, against my lips. "But how are we going to get out of here?"

He poses an excellent question. My eyebrows furrow in thought as we continue to kiss senselessly. "I propose," I said, as our mouths locked once more. "That we bang. And yell. Until someone. Comes for us."

"I like. That plan," he says raggedly between kisses. Harm laughs ironically. "I guess we do actually have to thank Harriet for all of this. If she hadn't locked us in here …"

"Chris, Harriet," I said, breaking from Harm. "What are we going to tell her? All of them? What are we going to say?"

Harm looks at me, slightly confused. "… The truth?" he suggested meekly.

"No, we can save the truth for later," I waved off the idea. "I mean in the next three days. If we tell Harriet, she'll be all over us all the time. We'll get no space to think let alone talk or … do … other things …" I finished with an embarrassed flush in my cheeks.

"So what do we do?" Harm whispered. "Lie to them?"

I bit my lower lip, a large grin quickly growing on my face. "I have an idea …"

* * *

**Same Time  
Room Across the Hall**

"Shit, Tiner, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH DIALOGUE WE MISSED?" Harriet bellowed for the five millionth time.

"I'm sorry, I've almost got the screen back up, I swear," Tiner moaned.

"Harriet," Bud said gently, touching his wife on the shoulder. "It's not his fault he tripped over the wires. That could happen to any of us. He's trying his best to get the video back on."

"We've probably missed a major make out session," Harriet finished miserably.

"Well, look at it this way," Sturgis said, dryly optimistic. "It's not like we missed anything we were _supposed _to be watching."

Harriet glared at him. "Bite me."

Jen sighed dreamily, from her position on the couch. "What do you suppose they're saying to each other right now?"

"Well, they're professing their love, of course," Harriet said airily. "Or well, Mac is. Harm already did that." She grinned broadly. "And they have us to thank. Because if we hadn't lured then locked them in that room, none of this would have ever happened. And they'd never have gotten together. Trust me, when they come out of that room, they'll be on their knees thanking us."

"I think … I've … got it," Tiner said, snapping the last plug into its socket. Immediately, the laptop screen burst to life.

_Harm and Mac's faces hovered simply millimeters from each other's lips. Mac smiled into Harm's mouth, as her lips consumed his. "And remember," she whispered thickly, as his mouth covered hers. "Don't," she broke. "Tell. Harriet."_

* * *

**A/N: Well, I'm figuring you enjoyed this chapter ;) Review, and I promise a speedy update. Perhaps on Thursday, or Friday at the very latest. **


	31. Passion Play

**Hey guys. I thought I should update today since as of about noon tomorrow (just because its physically impossible for me to get up any earlier on a Saturday) I will be reading Harry Potter all weekend (or less depending on how fast I finish it). And I couldn't have you going all weekend without an update so … without further ado …**

**This chapter marks the beginning of the end (a fact which I'm sure most of you are pleased about)**

**Passion Play**

**2312  
Room Across the Hall**

_Harm and Mac's faces hovered simply millimeters from each other's lips. Mac smiled into Harm's mouth, as her lips consumed his. "And remember," she whispered thickly, as his mouth covered hers. "Don't," she broke. "Tell. Harriet."_

For one beautiful second, the whole room seemed to freeze. Seven identically stunned faces peered at the laptop as Harm and Mac continued to passionately kiss, blissfully unaware of the publicity of their actions. And then the effects of Mac's words slowly set in …

Bud bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to prevent the smile that overtook his lips. Tiner looked away to disguise his grin. Jen giggled. The Admiral bit his lip but could not keep from snorting in suppressed laughter. Sturgis shook his head as if to say _'figures'. _

All eyes in the room were fixed on Harriet, with the exception of hers who remained thoroughly engrossed with the image on the laptop. Her mouth was open but did not move, as though facially paralyzed. Jen giggled a little more. Harriet turned around.

"_Don't tell Harriet?" _she repeatedly numbly. "Did she just … did she seriously … _Don't tell Harriet?"_

And all the self-control the JAG members had been so careful to exercise simply evaporated.

Tiner burst into laughter, accompanied by Jen who shrilly giggled. The Admiral and General, both trying to retain some sense of decorum, simply chuckled into their fists. Bud, shakily attempting sympathy for his wife, rubbed her arm comfortingly while softly laughing.

"Why don't they want to tell me?" Harriet asked crestfallen.

"Well," the Admiral chuckled. "Don't take it personally. Mac probably just doesn't want you knowing your method of locking people in rooms together works. Which, you can see, is a somewhat valid reason."

"Well," Harriet defended, looking affronted. "It DID work. Besides which, I'm her _best friend. _How can she NOT tell me this?"

"Pretty easily, apparently," Sturgis smirked. Harriet swatted him.

"I'm not going to stand for this," she said seriously. "They can't not tell me. I'm going to go in there and –"

"And do what?" Bud jumped in. "Tell them we were spying on them with the conference room video camera and having a party over in the next room?" Harriet was quiet. "You can't tell them that. You know it. Just let it go."

"I _can't _let it go!" Harriet retaliated. "Don't they understand how much time and effort I've put into them? Don't they understand how much I've _sacrificed _for them? And now, when they finally get their own happily ever after they're not even going to _tell _me."

"I'm sure they'll tell you, sweetie," Bud pacified her. "I guess just not right away."

"I deserve to be the _first _to know," Harriet whispered hotly.

Sturgis grinned wryly. "Well, in a way, you are …"

Harriet whirled around to him. "Just say ONE more word and I swear I will …"

"Okay!" The Admiral exclaimed loudly. He glowered amusedly at them. "How about this … it's late. We're all a bit tired, a bit cranky. We have an early morning seminar tomorrow. Let's just let Harm and Mac out, as we know we've accomplished the task we came here to do, and call it a night?"

"I'm up for that," Tiner said and a round of acquiescent nodding circled the group, coming to a final resting stop at Harriet who interjected angrily, "_leave _them in there for all I care."

"Wait," Sturgis said. "We can't all let them out … it'll be pretty obvious what we were doing … I say we should elect a person or two to release our prisoners."

The General was thoughtful for a moment, but then nodded. "Good idea."

There was a moment of shifty glances as they all stared at each other.

"I call not it!" Jen bellowed, which was followed by a chorus of the same statement. The ending result, was five pairs of eyes staring intently at Bud and Harriet.

"Mature, really," Harriet said rolling her eyes.

Bud chuckled. "Alright, guys, get out of here. We've got a couple prisoners to break loose." He turned back to his wife. "You ready to do this?"

Harriet bared her teeth. "Let me at 'em."

Bud grinned. "Harriet, not a word."

"I know, I know."

* * *

**Same Time  
Other Side of the Door  
Harm's POV**

"When do you think they'll let us out of here?" I whispered thickly against Mac's lips, as she pushed my back to the wall of the room, fingers uselessly playing with the buttons of my shirt. I released a frustrated moan as Mac's tongue entered my mouth once more. Why did Harriet and Bud have to keep us in here?

Not that I wasn't grateful or anything. If it wasn't for Harriet and Bud, I wouldn't have Mac's body pressed against mine or her saliva in my mouth. Which, though perhaps doesn't sound incredibly appealing on paper, I can assure you is definitely worth the venture in reality.

"They better," Mac whispered forcefully against my mouth, "Let us out soon."

"I know …" I whispered slowly, my hands running themselves through her hair. "Mac …" I whispered, as her body became dangerously close to mine. "We can't … not here … this is the conference room."

Mac smiled devilishly at me. "I kind of gathered that, Harm. Thanks."

She resumed playing with my buttons.

"Mac …" I moaned again. "Look, there's a video camera over there," I protested, pointing into a corner of the room.

Mac rolled her eyes. "Like it's even running."

"Hey, it could b–"

"Harm? Mac?" Bud called from the other side of the door.

Mac and I instantly scrambled off our leaning position on the wall, both of us hastening to button up that which Mac had unbuttoned. I straightened my shirt, and Mac finger-combed her hair. We both sent each other an approving glance, at which point the door to the room opened.

"Hey guys," Bud gestured in greeting.

"Oh, so you finally decided to let us out of here?" Mac barked, voice surprisingly gruff. I sent her a look, which she returned with a twinkle in her eye that quite clearly said _'play along'._

I cleared my throat. "Yes," I added sarcastically. "That was quite considerate of you."

Bud looked nervously to his wife, but Harriet waved it off brusquely. "I'm sure you found a pleasant way to … _spend your time."_

She raised her eyebrows at us. I looked at Mac, but Mac's game face did not fade. "Oh yes, incredibly pleasant, but a thorough waste. We could have talked about seminar topics over email, and at least then I would have been able to simultaneously eat and watch TV."

"You talked about seminar topics?" Bud repeated stunned.

Mac nudged me. "We did," I confirmed.

"That's it?" Harriet prodded, eyes piercing mine with alarming perception.

I looked at Mac, who swiftly responded, "Pretty much."

"Whoa, will you look at that?" I said loudly, looking at my watch. "God, it's getting on midnight, and we all have to be up early for that seminar. So how about we all go off to bed, huh?"

I shot Mac a discrete glance. Her eyes held a mischievous twinkle. Harriet was looking between the both of us, trying to read our expressions. "Oh, of course," she said faintly. "It _is _rather late, isn't it? The kids will have already drifted off, I expect. Well then, I suppose we should all get going."

"Yeah," I agreed. My mind drifted to Mac's empty hotel room … I grinned wildly. "We definitely should."

"Hm, alright," Harriet yawned. "Well, I'll just escort you to your car then," she said to me.

Bud, Mac and I just stared at her. "Escort me to my car?" I asked weakly.

"Harriet …" Bud murmured warningly (for some reason).

"Yeah," Harriet nodded. "I think we left Mitch's soother in the back of your car, and he likes to wake up at all hours of the night crying for the damned thing. I can't have him waking up the other three. So I'll just walk to your car, grab the soother, and be off."

"Oh … um …" I tried to look at Mac but she was looking deliberately away. "Okay, then."

"Alright, well, I'll go up then," Bud said. "I'll relieve the babysitter from her duties."

"And …" Mac said, looking resignedly at me. "I guess I'll go up to my room then …"

"Okay," Harriet said brightly. She turned to Harm. "Lead on!"

* * *

**To : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)  
From : Bud Robberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
Subject : You tricky tricky woman**

Hm. I see how it is now. Because Mac won't tell you that she and Harm are now together, you are going to punish them whenever the opportunity arises? Have you no shame? You black hearted woman.

Bud

* * *

**To : Bud Robberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
From : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)  
Re : You tricky tricky woman**

I am not PUNISHING Mac for not telling me that she's now with Harm. I'm simply … making things difficult for them … so that they WILL tell me. I mean, how hard would it have been for Harm to say, "actually, I'm not going back to my place. I'm staying in Mac's hotel room."

I mean, REALLY. If they were just honest, I wouldn't need to squeeze it out of them, and things would be a lot less unpleasant. But nooooo … they're going all "Don't tell Harriet" on me. Well fine. I'll get it out of them.

I'll just do so creatively.

Harriet

P.S: And I am NOT a black hearted woman. How could you call the mother of your four and a half children that?

* * *

**To : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)  
From : Bud Robberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
Re : You tricky tricky woman**

Don't give me that. You're so punishing them. Now stop making them miserable, let Harm go to Mac, and come back up to the hotel room. The kids, believe it or not, are still up. And watching cartoons.

Bud

P.S: Calling you a black hearted woman, mother of my children or not, I seem to find surprisingly easy.  
P.P.S: I would hardly call a month old fetus half a kid. More like 1/9th of a kid.

* * *

**To : Bud Robberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
From : Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)  
Re : You tricky tricky woman**

Mother and child are offended, and have reached the mutual decision you are sleeping on the couch tonight.

H

* * *

**To : Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
Subject : I'm back**

Hey,

Harriet insisted on watching me drive all the way out of the parking lot, waving at me the whole time. I swear, she's getting a little nuttier with the more kids she has. Anyways, I'm sitting in the parking lot outside Subway waiting for the coast to be clear so I can come back.

Harm

* * *

**To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re : I'm back**

Yeah, that whole seeing-you-off thing was kind of weird … I don't remember Mitch ever leaving his soother in your car. I don't even see when he would have had the opportunity to. Was it there? Maybe the pregnancy hormones are getting to Harriet. That's probably it. Because if she really knew what we were up to, she'd be supplying us a queen size bed with silk sheets.

Mac

P.S: While you're at Subway, you wanna pick up a foot long meat ball sub? Please?

* * *

**To : Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)  
Re : I'm back**

You're kidding. We just ate.

H

* * *

**To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**From : Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)**

**Re : I'm back**

I'm … growing.

M

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys. I'm sorry this chapter wasn't very long, but its four in the morning and I'm falling asleep at the keyboard here. So basically, in this chapter I set the premise for the next chapter which is Harriet is trying to force Mac and Harm to tell her they're together, which they don't want to do. But she can't admit she knows because of the video camera thing, and they don't understand how she could know because … well, she wasn't in the room. Don't worry, I've got a series of funny events lined up for that theme.**

**I won't update till Monday probably. Reading Harry Potter. You all understand. **


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